


Badass Lady and Some Smirking Idiot

by ashisfriendly



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, F/M, Family Angst, Family Fluff, First Time, Fluff, Kissing, Libraries, Nightmares, Pregnancy, Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 45,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisfriendly/pseuds/ashisfriendly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles prompted to me on tumblr starring Han and Leia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be Strong

**Author's Note:**

> These are usually posted on [my tumblr](http://ashishorny.tumblr.com/), where you too can prompt me your wildest Han and Leia dreams!
> 
> **This is not a fluid story. Each chapter is an individual drabble, they aren't supposed to flow from one to the next, I just post and write as I get prompts that inspire me! Thanks for reading!!!**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Okay but Leia getting pregnant and not telling Han because she's scared of the Vader genes the baby will inherit

She’s known for too long. Leia knows Han’s not a total idiot, but she wonders if maybe he’ll just never notice. 

When she starts to show, she’ll just refuse sex, tell him she has a headache. They’ll stop bathing together, sleeping shirtless, or finding dark corners to touch each other in. Maybe she can find some kind of mission to put him on.

She’ll miss him too much.

Leia paces her small room which is hardly a room, some kind of partitioned bunk area that the crew made for her. She didn’t need it, she tried to tell them that, but they insisted she have a place of her own, or as much of her own as they could spare. However, since becoming pregnant, she’s never been more thankful for this.

It gives her time, the very minuscule moments she has to consider what this means. To consider whatever’s stirring inside her chest, whatever she feels vibrating against her skin. The Force, Luke would tell her. She knows he’s right, but what it all means, she’s not sure yet. She really just doesn’t have time to train, no matter how much Luke insists she needs to.

Then there’s her stomach, it’s hard and pushing out just enough for her to notice. She puts her hand over it and closes her eyes, breathing in the energy around her. She hopes it helps him. Helps him know the Light, helps him know love, helps him know to avoid what’s out there that may call to him.

She doesn’t want him to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps, and Leia is so scared, so fucking terrified, that he will not be strong enough to resist. 

She’s strong, she knows, but she doesn’t know how to pass on that strength. She really wishes her mother was her to tell her how she did it.

“Leia?”

Her hands spring from her stomach as she spins around. Han’s eyes are round in concern, but he relaxes at the sight of her. He slips his hands around her waist and she doesn’t mean to, but she tenses, hoping he doesn’t feel the difference in her form. He kisses her and his lips are cool.

“Is everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah. No one knew where you were.” He waves his hand out toward the rest of the base, annoyed. He smirks at her, that smile that lights her chest on fire. “And I thought you might be missing me,” he whispers.

Leia rolls her eyes as he kisses her again. It doesn’t take long for him to deepen their kiss, backing her up and proving that his remark was absolutely wrong because it’s clear by the way his hands hold her and his lips kiss her, that Han was the one who was missing Leia.

His hand slips to a button on the front of her shirt and she stops, backing away, both of them catching their breath.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I know, you have a lot to do.”

“No, Han--”

“Really, Leia, I know.” He grabs her hand and rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “Maybe later.”

He winks, lifting her hand and kissing it. She can see the disappointed dip in his eyes. It’s subtle, something not everyone would catch, but she can. He kisses her knuckles again and drops her hand but before they disconnected completely, she speaks.

“Han.”

He holds onto her fingers. The statement, so simple, only two words long, keeps repeating in her mind over and over and over. She’s given strategic plan presentations in front of groups of people, she’s made speeches in front of politicians and royalty. She’s done so many things, but she can’t tell the man she loves that she’s pregnant with his child.

“I love you,” she says, her voice shaking.

Han’s other hand reaches for her cheek, stroking her face with his thumb. He kisses her softly and whispers, “I love you, too.”

Han leaves her, only looking back to remind her not to work too hard and to find him before bed. Leia turns toward the wall and cries, swallowing her sobs and rubbing her stomach, whispering.

“Be strong,” she says, “be strong.”


	2. Now and Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Leia and Han having sex in the Millennium Falcon?

Leia is certain she’s never giggled, yes giggled, this much in her entire life.

And she knows this isn’t the end, she knows this is all temporary and there is still so much to be done, troops to pull into different directions depending on where the Empire still lingers, but right now she just wants to feel this light, airy, bubbly feeling forever.

She tells herself she deserves it, that after everything, she needs to feel the rake of his fingers on her skin, the rough push of his lips on her neck, that she deserves the low heat in the pit of her stomach. She’s worked so hard, lost so much, she just wants this one moment with him.

Han smirks across her lips, bumping teeth. “We did it,” he mumbles. “You did it.”

She didn’t do anything alone but she takes his compliment, rides out the boost it gives her and takes off his shirt, working next on his belt. Han pulls away, eyes big and round in surprise. She bites her lip to try to keep her smile under control.

“Now?”

“Now,” she confirms. So what if Lando and Chewie and Luke and who knows who else is on the ship? Not her. 

Han grabs her and pulls her toward a panel of buttons near the doorway. He taps them, lips still smoothing over hers, sinking lower and lower until there’s a click followed by a low hiss. They’re locked in this musty old cargo bay and she doesn’t care at all.

Han removes her clothes carefully, moves her hair away when she’s bare so he can look at her. He’s a goofball, a real scoundrel, but all of that just adds to the weight of his stare. It’s hot and dark, savoring every inch of her. She almost feels a little self conscious, but she just helped aid and lead the beginning of the descent of the Empire. She’s powerful and beautiful, if those actions don’t prove it, the way Han Solo looks at her just might win over any nonbeliever.

Han tilts his head with a small shake, letting out a puff of air in disbelief. “I don’t deserve this.”

Leia giggles again, shaking her head. “No you don’t.”

He gathers her in his arms, kissing her with a new grateful ferocity. Her hands work to remove his pants while his roam over her breasts, down her sides, between her legs. She gasps and arches into his touch, breathing in the musty scent of the room that mixes so well with that deep, musky scent of him. 

When his pants are finally gone, he’s quick to pick her up by her thighs. She wraps her legs around his waist, positioning herself quickly against him. Han groans when she feels him against her opening. She swallows and he pulls back to look at her, to make sure this is okay. They’ve never done this, there’s never been time, but Leia is tired of waiting for the right time or for a break in her life. There’s been too many close calls to not have him right now.

She nods, pressing her forehead to his. Han whispers that he loves her as he pushes in, just a little, just enough to test. She nods again, moving their heads, and he goes deeper, still whispering sweet nothings as if she needs them for strength. She doesn’t, but Leia will take them just the same. 

He kisses her, thrusting into her the rest of the way. She whimpers, and Han is slow to pull and push again and it’s such a delightful burn, one Leia is sure she will never get used to, one she’ll never able to be without ever again. 

Leia grips him tighter and Han does the same, thrusting deeper, lips craving anything they can touch. She whispers in his ear and he moans, nodding.

“Forever,” he confirms.

Realistically, they may not have a forever, but she’ll take his promise and treat it as delicately as a dream.


	3. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can you do Leia being eaten out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little canon divergence here, takes place on Hoth during Episode V.

It’s quiet; a soft rhythm of beeps from incoming messages and periodic status reports peppering in the air. Leia watches the messages roll along the screen, the red letters starting to blur as the fatigue finally starts to seep into her muscles, making her eyelids droop, her body warm with the beginning of sleep.

She tells herself she can close her eyes for a moment, just a small moment.

Leia imagines her old bed, the one in her bedroom on Alderaan. It was big, way too big for just her, and the satin sheets were so soft and smooth along her skin. Her bed was her sanctuary, and since her planet, her home, her family, were taken from her, she can’t find refuge in small, intimate places anymore. And sleep? The dreaming is visceral and tragic and she hates it.

For now, her old bed sinks into her brain and she falls into it, unable to resist the urge to feel that innocent pleasure anymore. The pillows are so close, she can even smell the old floral scent that used to permeate the fabric.

“Woah, princess.”

Leia gasps, jolting awake. There’s the familiar twist to her chest she gets when she wakes up from the dreams that are more like memories. But then she sees him, his hair a mess and day old stubble along his jaw; his hands are gentle on her biceps but he squeezes, rubbing up and down her arms.

“You should get some sleep. I can stay here,” Han says. His voice sounds rough with sleep. “If it’ll help.”

“No, no,” Leia says, shrugging out of his hold even if it’s the warmest thing on this awful ice planet. She stands up, yawning. “I was just working.”

He smirks, crossing his arms. “Is that what that was?”

Leia rolls her eyes, turning toward the door. “Yes, work. Have you ever heard of it?”

He follows her through the hallways. “Nah, I prefer other things: money, sleeping, drinking--”

“Spare me the specifics.”

“I’m only getting started, sweetheart.”

Leia turns around, Han bumping into her. She shoves him back and he stares at her, smirking. She hates how he gets under her skin, how he makes heat travel up her chest and into her cheeks. Leia likes to imagine Han doesn’t notice the rosy color in her skin when he finds ways to touch her, but it’s unlikely.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even have to touch her. Sometimes, his eyes just find hers in a certain way.

Han drops his head and sighs in mock frustration.

“Fine,” he says, “you can sleep in the Falcon with me.”

Leia laughs, shaking her head. “No thank you.”

“Why?” Han asks, his smirk disappearing a little. “So you can stay up all night in the control room?”

Leia tilts her head, placing her hands on her hips. “What--”

“I know that’s what you do, Leia.” He takes a step toward her. “You stay up in the control room, maybe fall asleep for a few minutes, maybe an hour? Sleep wherever you want, but _sleep_.”

“Are you spying on me?” she asks. 

“Quite it, will you? With the defensive shit. No, I’m not spying on you. I’m watching, I’m… caring.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m the only one who will tell you, so listen very carefully: get some damn sleep.”

Leia blinks, unable to move or speak. No one really talks to her like this. Criticism is delivered with grace and intelligence, and definitely without as many swears or eye rolling as Han just delivered. This shouldn’t surprise her, tact isn’t one of Han’s strong points. 

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” Leia snaps. She’s afraid she doesn’t sound as harsh as she’d like. 

Han puts his hands up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He takes one step toward her. “But if you ever need help getting to sleep, I’ll help you get there, princess.”

He winks at her and she, apparently, exhales because her breath materializes between them. Han nudges her chin with his knuckles and turns around, walking back toward the hangar.

“Han,” she calls and when he stops, she wishes she would just shut her stupid, foolish mouth. What good could come of his help? Of sleeping with him? Nothing. 

Han turns around, and she is surprised to find his eyes a little round in surprise, his mouth relaxed in slight shock, instead of his cocky smirk. Heat travels through her, radiating so warm that she figures her skin must be steaming against the cold of Hoth. His gaze bores into her, unbelieving.

She dips her chin a little, just enough of an admittance to to him, and herself, that she’s accepting his offer.

He jerks his head back, motioning for her to follow him, and she does. She follows Han Solo through the rebel base, down to the hangar, up the walkway into the Millennium Falcon, into its sleeping quarters. Chewie isn’t in here and she opens her mouth to ask where he is, but Han speaks first.

“Lay down.” He shrugs off his jacket. “Please, your highness.”

Leia rolls her eyes but does as he says. The bed is surprisingly comfortable and doesn’t smell that awful. It’s not floral in scent, but something more woody and male. Han starts untying her boots and she kicks him away.

“I can take off my own shoes.”

“I know you can,” he says and grabs the boot again, continuing to take it off before he moves onto the other one. 

Then, to Leia’s horrific surprise, he rubs his hands up her legs, stopping at the clasp of her pants. She springs up.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you sleep.”

“I said I didn’t need your help.”

“I know,” Han says, leaning toward her, his nose nudging hers, lips only a breath away. Her throat tightens. “But do you want it?” he whispers.

Han is completely still, his chest the only thing moving in and out as he breathes, waiting. 

She swallows and then nods.

Han’s mouth covers hers, soft and curious until her lips separate and he moans against her tongue. His fingers undo her pants, and they both groan as he pulls away so he can drag them and her underwear down her legs. The air is cold on her legs, Han’s hands even colder but she just whimpers, falling back onto the bed. 

“This damn place,” Han mumbles, grabbing a blanket from behind him and throwing it on top of her. 

Leia smiles, hiking the blanket up to her chin, wiggling underneath the warmth. She glances at him, disheveled from her fingers in his hair, eyes glazed and his smirk replaced by something else, something… almost confused. 

“What?” Leia asks.

“Nothing, I--” Han coughs. “I never thought this… you…” 

He rubs his chin, shaking his head, and then grabs the foot of the blanket and disappears underneath it.

Leia watches the lump under the blanket move, feels his hands on her legs. They’re warmer, he must have rubbed them together or blew into them. His nose nudges her knee first, and then she feels the scratch of his chin, the press of his lips. He travels up the inside of her thighs, alternating warm, wet kisses on each leg. 

Han places her legs on his shoulders and Leia closes her eyes, pushing her fingers into the blanket. Her heart is beating loud in her ears, the air is buzzing around her, and she doesn’t know which way is up anymore. She can feel every small movement of his fingers on her hips, the faint trace of his breath on her thighs, she even swears she can feel his pulse beating along with her own.

Leia gasps as his fingers move down, between her legs, spreading her open, touching her in a way that she’s never been touched before. He’s gentler than she would imagine, and she hears him swear under his breath, his nose nudging against her, his lips shaking along her lips. Leia whimpers, moving her hips up to bring him closer and everything changes.

He growls, pushing his face tight against her, his lips no longer soft and curious, but rough and unforgiving. A groan escapes him, the vibrations traveling through her body and making her cry out and shake against him. His nails dig into the flesh of her hips and Leia clamps her hands on his head over the blanket. 

“Han,” she moans and he pushes harder, moving lower and pushing his tongue inside her.

He continues to fuck her with his tongue, the soft pressure contrasting beautifully with the scratch of his jaw. She arches her back, grinds into his face, and he responds with fervor. 

An intense, almost blinding heat starts in her stomach and trickles down her legs. Her breathing starts to race so fast, she doesn’t think her lungs can keep up. Leia keeps whispering his name, making him move faster. His tongue slides up, circling her clit now, making her moans louder, and she’s no longer able to say his name. His finger pushes inside of her and she sees stars, and when he adds another she sees the entire galaxy.

Leia can’t explain how she feels, but it’s almost too much, entirely too much. She says his name, pulling at him to let up and he does, taking his mouth away, making her whine. He pulls the blanket down with one hand, his other still moving in and out of her, slower now.

The air is cool on her skin but nothing can prepare her for the sight of Han between her legs, hair a mess, his eyes glazed over, and mouth slick with her.

“You okay?” he asks, trying to catch his breath. His fingers continue to move and Leia’s eyes roll back. She sighs and looks back down at him.

“Yeah,” she says. She moans. “It’s… a lot.”

He smirks and she wants to punch him and kiss him.

“Good.”

His mouth returns and his tongue moves faster and Leia is fascinated, watching his head bob as he licks her, eyes closed and brow furrowed, his fingers flexing against her thigh. She wants to watch, desperately wants to see him work her over, but she can’t keep her eyes open, her body no longer under her own control as she climbs, the feeling -- Han -- becoming too much, too fast.

Her moans get louder, her breaths completely uneven. Han somehow moves faster, his fingers curling and she curses, screaming. Her muscles start to spasm until they completely tighten and then release, skyrocketing her past the darkest oblivion of this galaxy and the next, until there is no light, no sound, no anything.

She’s weightless, everything coming back to her slowly and through a dense fog. She’s in the Falcon, and Han is kissing her legs, her stomach, sliding into the spot next to her. She wants to kiss him, damnit she wants to kiss him so bad, but she can’t move.

“Wha--”

“Shh, sleep time, remember?” Han whispers, placing a finger on her chin and moving her face towards him, kissing her lips softly.

Leia remembers. Sleep, she needs sleep, she’s ready for sleep. She doesn’t imagine her bed on Alderaan, but instead stays right here, on a surprisingly comfortable bed, inside the Millennium Falcon, with Han Solo pressed against her, his fingers lazily drawing circles into her hip. It’s confusing and overwhelming but the pleasant drift of sleep is gaining on her and the way Han hums against her is like a lullaby. 

“What--”

“Shh,” he says again. “Sleep, princess.”

She does.


	4. Not Very Princess Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Han and Leia + golden bikini sex?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: this is a contemporary high school AU!

Han’s beer is sweating in his hand, the condensation cool on his fingers. It’s too fucking hot. A graduation pool party is not really his thing, not to mention he hardly earned his diploma anyway, but Leia really wanted to come.

They fought about it, but in a moment of weakness, Leia stepped to him, her hip swaying in that way that makes his mouth water. Her lips were soft on his as she whispered, “Please? I have a bikini I really want you to see me in.”

She knows how to play him, but he doesn’t mind. Not at all.

However, now she’s off splashing around in the pool while he stands with Chewie by the table of food, munching on Cheetos and watching every guy take her in like she’s some prize to be won. He’s already told Lando to watch it, but that’s their usual greeting anyway.

The worst of them is Jabba. He’s shouting at her and he nudges his friends to point her out, his sleezy eyes trailing her as she walks around the edge of the pool to jump off the diving board. In some ways, Han can’t blame him, or any of the others; she’s radiating today. 

The sun is hitting her pale skin, and Han can see the burns starting on her shoulders and nose. She’s happy, the stress of school and student government replaced with the lazy days of summer. Well, lazy days for her, which will probably consist of the summer work for her super fancy early admittance program for college and her part time job at Al’s Books. 

It’s a good thing, too; he likes that work ethic, it keeps her feisty and focused. He looks forward to a summer full of sleeping in and working on the Falcon while Leia studies in the garage with occasional kissing breaks.

Leia pushes herself out of the pool and as she walks up to Han, Jabba yells out something about being with a real man. She flips him off without looking back and Han smirks, lowering his Ray-Bans on his nose. 

“Mm, you’re right. Standing around and eating Cheetos with a bunch of people I hate is worth it for this,” Han says, looking her over.

He slinks his hands around her waist, the water along her skin cool on his fingers. He kisses her and Chewie scoffs, walking away. Han pulls her closer, getting his clothes wet, but her tongue feels too good to care.

“I was thinking of changing back into my dress if you want to join me,” Leia whispers against his lips.

“That’s not very princess like.”

“Must be the bikini.”

Han hums, kissing her before letting her tug him toward Lando’s poolhouse. Leia’s hips sway as she walks and Han’s eyes won’t stop falling to her ass. Inside, she smiles, her eyes narrowing like they do before she takes a test. Han’s dick hardens, heat spreading through his body

Her hand moves to the lock on the door and she turns it with a satisfying click.

It’s not like they haven’t had sex before or anything, ever since prom night they seem to be always having it, but at a party? This isn’t their style. But Han wouldn’t mind if it became their style.

There isn’t much in here, it’s sleek and modern with a low bed and a dresser with stacks of towels on top. It smells like something artificial and strong, like a candle called Seabreeze Linen or something.

He much prefers the smell of Leia’s skin, a mix of chlorine and sunblock, and entirely summer. She leans up to kiss him, until he pulls her closer, stepping back to the bed. When his calves hit the mattress, she pushes him down and straddles his waist, deepening their kiss and grinding against him.

Han swallows her moans, lets the push of her hips guide his hands to move up her torso and over her breasts. He pulls the top of the gold bikini down so he can feel the soft flesh underneath, running his thumbs over her hardening nipples. 

Leia leans away from his kiss and slides herself back onto his thighs so she can undo his jeans. Han’s fingers keep moving over her breasts, pushing into her skin when her own touch glides over his dick. He groans when he’s out of his boxers, and closes his eyes when she wraps her hand around him. Her hand moves up, squeezing and turning before moving back down his shaft. He moans her name and she moves back toward him until she’s warm and wet above him.

The material of her swimsuit is a little rough on his dick, but the friction is good, very good. Her lips come back to his and Han pulls the strings of her top until it falls away and his hands are free to explore her chest. He can feel the warmth radiating off her shoulders so he kisses the burns forming there. 

Leia reaches between them, her knuckles grazing the head of his cock as she moves her bathing suit aside. Han whispers her name into her neck, skin buzzing and hips moving up as best he can. She moves, too, and she’s there, so warm and inviting. All it takes is her hips to roll back just a little and then push forward and she’s sinking onto him.

“Woah,” Han whispers. 

He’ll never get over the lack of condoms. Bless birth control, he’ll be thankful for it until the day he dies.

Leia smiles and kisses him as she rides him. He holds onto her hips, their moans and breaths mingling together in a way that makes him grip her waist and move her faster. Leia pulls away from his kiss to lean back and the angle is beautiful and deep; Han’s sure he’s not going to last long.

Especially when she grabs his hand and moves it to her clit. She’s warm and slick under his fingers and enveloping his dick, his body on fire. Her moans turn into those familiar whines that mean she’s climbing and Han encourages her, whispers her name. She holds onto his shoulders, nails digging into his t-shirt and poking into his skin and he growls, the pain only sending him higher.

“Leia,” he groans, holding on, waiting for her.

He moves faster along her clit in small circles and she lets him go, rolling her hips fast and gripping her wet hair as she screams. Her muscles clench around him and he holds onto her ass, releasing inside her in a mess of curses and shaking muscles.

They fall back on the bed, Leia breathing beautifully next to him. Han rubs her side, sliding his finger underneath the side of her bathing suit and snapping it against her skin. She laughs, swatting him.

“I like this thing,” he says, buttoning his pants.

She rolls her eyes, sitting up to find her top. “And here I thought you liked me, flyboy.”

Han props his head up in his hand, elbow digging into the mattress.

“Nah, I like the bikini. I love you.”

Leia turns around, her top in her hand. She points at him, eyebrows high.

“Not bad.”

“Thank you, I try.”

Leia leans down and kisses him one last time before tying on her top and opening the door.

“Hey,” Han says, sitting up. “I thought you were changing.”

She laughs.

“You really are an idiot.”


	5. Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Han x Leia fluff

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” Leia says, sighing, “if this was our life?”

Han smiles, pulling her closer to him. Her skin is warm, the curve of her side perfect beneath his fingers, her hip just the right size for him to hold onto. He presses his fingertips into her flesh, causing her hips to move backward; her ass pushing against him.

“You’d go crazy,” Han says, kissing her head.

She laughs and the vibration sends heat through him. He moves his hand across her belly and holds her tight. 

“Yeah, but pretend.” Leia turns her head back to glance at him and he sneaks a kiss on her temple before she moves back. “You could have some kind of respectable job, maybe. I make dinner before you get home.”

Han laughs, sneaking his fingers to her breasts. They had sex no more than a half hour ago, but he’s already wanting more. She does that to him, makes him completely addicted, tunnel visioned, and somewhat stupid. Stupider than he already is.

“You hate cooking.”

“It’s a fantasy, flyboy, keep up.”

She rolls over so she’s on her back and Han is quick to move his hand all over her torso, flattening his palm over her breasts, sliding his thumb over her collarbone, and sweeping his hand down until he tickles the soft skin under her belly button and over her hip bones.

“Okay, okay,” Han mumbles into her neck. He bites the skin and she inhales, her legs opening. His hand slips down. “In this very unrealistic fantasy, I’m a rich and honest man with a housewife?” 

Leia gasps as he presses a finger to her clit.

“Uh huh,” she says.

“I like that. I’m finally in charge.”

She grinds against his hand, lifting her hips so his fingers slip lower, teasing her entrance. He smiles and kisses her cheek. She turns her head, meeting his lips with hers.

“No way, I’m still in charge,” Leia whispers, slowly wrapping her hand around his growing cock. 

Han groans. “You’re right, princess.” She strokes him gently. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Leia climbs over his body, Han moving his hands so she can straddle his waist; she’s still warm and wet from earlier. Han cradles her face and she turns her mouth into his palm, kissing the rough skin there. Getting away was the right call, booking this room on Coruscant for two nights in some fleeting attempt at a fake honeymoon, was just what they both needed. 

They aren’t married or anything, but Han figures they don’t need a wedding to deserve a honeymoon, taking down the Empire will do just fine. He also assumes Leia hasn’t had a vacation since she was a girl.

She deserves to breathe and to let someone else take care of her. She might let him someday.

They both sigh as she sinks onto him. Han slides his hand to her neck, pulling her to him, kissing her. 

“I love you, princess.”

Leia rolls her hips and Han swears into her mouth. She smiles, moving faster.

“I love you, my honest, rich man.”

Han bites her lip before shaking his head. “No, doesn’t feel right.”

She laughs, her hips slowing. Her voice lowers and her eyes narrow. 

“Fine. My scoundrel.” 

Han flips them over, sitting back on his knees and gripping her hips before he pushes back into her.

“That’s more like it.”

Leia laughs, flinging her head back. Han watches her, memorized. Her skin is full of color, a fresh tint of pink on her cheeks. Her hair is a mess but it fans behind her on the pillow beautifully, some strands laying across her breasts. Han moves his hips just enough to make her gasp and arch her back. She looks up at him with her beautiful, big brown eyes and Han feels the galaxy implode inside his chest.

Han isn’t an honest man, he couldn’t work in the Senate or do research or take care of droid manufacturing. He’s awful, a pain in the ass, a man who doesn’t deserve much of anything, let alone her. 

He’s just enough of a scumbag to hold onto her anyway, for as long as he can.


	6. Perhaps There is Something Better For You, My Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Please write me some Han/Leia, Han gets jealous fic

Han is, more or less, getting used to these things.

Sometimes these meetings are much more his speed, with dinners in family homes where the food is eaten with hands and laughing loudly is acceptable. There was also that one senate meeting where everyone drank too much, that was fun.

Other times, he feels like the gravity has given out underneath his feet while everyone else stays firmly on the ground. There’s fruits he’s never really seen before and the clothes he has to wear make his neck itch. There are droids with polished silver shells delivering drinks and offering compliments. It’s weird, and kind of creepy.

It’s not like Han thinks these people are better than him. They’re not, they’re just different, with a different set of standards that he may or may not be comfortable with and he may or may not only tolerate because of Leia. Also, the re-establishment of the Republic or whatever, but mostly Leia.

She’s, of course, quite comfortable around these people. They’re her people. She grew up with droids helping her get dressed in the morning, wearing the finest silks and satins, and learning everything from outer rim languages to hand to hand combat. Negations and political strategies, while also keeping up her ability to choose the correct eating utensils for different portions of the meal. Apparently, there are different ways to eat soup. Who knew.

Leia doesn’t care about these “standards”, though. She smiles at Han when he licks his thumb clean of sauce and rolls her eyes when he picks food off her plate. She tugs on his fraying vest and growls before kissing him. She doesn’t mind his informalities at all.

Han takes a glass of something that smells almost like fuel and is the color of rusted pipes and nods at the droid before it scurries off. He swirls the liquid in the glass because that’s what most people seem to do with their drinks at these things. Not much drinking, a lot of swirling and toasting.

They had dinner already. Leia sat far away from him, near the High Mistress and her son. They both greeted Han with respect, and Han tried to keep a straight face when Leia introduced him as, “General Han Solo, one of our best pilots.” 

He watched her at the dinner table, all small smiles and compliments. She didn’t talk strategy or business at the table, that was the time to get to know the leaders, gain their trust, empathise with their duties, talk of her past life. Han catches her eye between courses and she smiles at him. He winks and her eyes snap to the ceiling in a playful roll that makes his body heat from the inside out. 

Now, they’re drinking and schmoozing, and Han feels the otherness of this whole circus start to take over him. A few people talk to him but he only has so many anecdotes and not a lot of patience so they lose interest quickly, saying they need more lubrication or they just have to talk to whoever the hell form wherever the fuck. Han doesn’t care, he’ll keep drinking the amber jet fuel.

Leia is all in now, her face alive with the battle she’s been fighting her entire life. She’s got spirit glowing off her skin and power radiating from the tips of her fingers, the shine in her eyes, the rise to her chin. It’s beautiful, an incredible sight. He only hates those determined eyes when she disagrees with him, but in this setting? He loves it. 

Okay, fine, he always loves it.

Han watches from across the room. She’s talking to the High Mistress, Leia’s hair piled on top of her head in a twist and the light keeps catching the shine of her headband. The High Mistress nods as Leia talks, interrupts for questions, and Leia continues without missing a beat. Sometimes, when these people just ask Han how he’s doing, he flubs his answer.

The High Mistress places a gentle hand on Leia’s arm and motions with her other to her son. He points his chin down in a small bow toward Leia and then leans over to his mom, kissing her cheek before she walks away. 

This guy, Han thinks his name is Willow or something like that, he looks not much older than Leia, with dark skin and one of those stupid, totally unscarred or bent faces. The handsome kind. The kind that’s seen no battle or fights or any adversity, if Han had to guess.

Leia continues speaking as if there wasn’t just a change in who was listening. She does smile a little more, touch her neck and laugh at jokes Han can’t hear. Han takes a swig of his gasoline drink, draining the glass. Willow leans in close to Leia and whispers something, and she nods enthusiastically.

Han’s chest tightens, his stomach grinding together. He watches Leia move her hand around in that way she does when she’s trying to tell a story that she can’t quite remember. Why would she be telling him stories? She’s supposed to be gaining their allegiance with the Republic, that’s all. 

Han shakes his head, motioning for one of those droids to bring him another drink. This Willow guy must feel it, too. The pull, the inspiration, the tug at his chest that makes him think he can do anything. Han’s warm, he’s sure he’s sweating. Damn jet fuel drink.

Willow leans in close to Leia again, but Han notices the change in subject just on her face. She’s talking slower, more concise, maybe about the lives that were given or the ones that are still at risk because of the remnants of the Empire around the galaxy. He responds in kind, placing a hand on his chest and everything. He takes out a data pad and they look at the screen together as he swipes and plucks through it. 

Han downs his drink and a droid comes by to take the glass. Han passes on another, but immediately wishes he had more, because Willow puts his hand on Leia’s bicep and she looks down, smiling. She doesn’t pull away, if anything she leans a little forward. 

At first, all Han can feel is heat, unfiltered heat in his chest and along his arms, curling his fists. But, the longer he watches, the more the scene envelopes around them perfectly. The deep reds and golds of the room, the busy night sky outside the floor to ceiling windows, the shining lights and flickering candles. The air smells sweet and floral, and the power is thick in the room. Everyone here, especially Willow, understands the things she does, the importance of her work, the give and take of politics, the negotiations, anything and everything that Han never could get a grip on. When she explains the hardship of her days, he listens, but he doesn’t quite understand, and Han is starting to think he never will.

But Willow? He already does. He will. He can give Leia the life she deserves, aid the rebellion and maybe even improve it. 

Han shoves his hands in his pockets of his borrowed, stiff clothing and sighs, looking to his right. He wishes Chewie were here.

He chances a glance back at Leia. Willow places a hand on her back and it dips low, very low, a low that makes Han’s blood bubble and heart sink all at the same time.

Leia raises her chin a little and her smile falters just enough for Han to notice. She scans the room until her eyes lock with Han’s. Han looks away but he catches a movement coming from her direction again, and because he must be the most pathetic masochist ever, he looks.

She’s crooking her finger, motioning for him to come over to her. Han takes the bait, he always has and always will for her. When he gets up close to Leia, she reaches out and takes his hand, locking their arms together.

Willow stiffens a little, eyeing Han. Han is a little drunk and emotionally somewhere between handing her off to give her a better life and wanting to smash this guy into the ground. The latter wouldn’t help the rebellion so he just tightens his hold on Leia’s arm.

“General Solo,” Willow says with a lot of stiff formality, “how are you enjoying the evening?”

“It’s nice, thanks.”

“Wonderful.”

There’s a thick, long silence between them until Leia breaks it. 

“I’m afraid we should be going, don’t you think, General?”

“Huh?” Han blinks. “Oh, yeah, of course. If you’re ready.”

“Yes, I think so. We have a long journey ahead.” Leia bows a little to Willow and Han does his best to imitate her. He hopes the customary bowing thing is the same for women as it is for men. “This was so lovely, thank you so much for your hospitality. Please give my regards to the High Mistress.”

Willow grabs Leia’s free hand and brings it to his lips. He keeps his eyes steady on Leia until his hand releases hers. Han almost pushes him off, but he thinks of the resistance starting, the building of the Republic, of Leia, and steadies himself. 

“Please, let me know if there’s anything else we can do,” Willow says. He turns to Han. “Nice meeting you, General.”

“A pleasure,” Han snaps.

Leia leads them through the great room, down the stairs and through the halls toward the hangar. The Falcon is there, along with a few other ships courtesy of the other guests. Han lets go of her arm before they reach the ship. 

She follows behind him and he seals the entrance when she’s in the main hold.

“Did you have a nice time on your date?” Han asks, sitting in his seat.

“Han--”

“No, no, it was fun, watching you two make your wedding arrangements.” He starts the Falcon, facing the dashboard, not daring to look at her. “I’m anticipating my invitation.”

“Han, come on, stop it. I didn’t--”

Han raises a hand. “You know it’s fine, it’s fine. Really. You’re better off probably.”

The Falcon rumbles to life. 

“Hey!” Leia shoves his shoulder and Han’s hand pulls the accelerator so they jerk forward before he pushes it back again. “Stop it!”

“What?” Han turns to her, standing. He likes this part, at least he’s bigger than her. Sometimes, it doesn’t feel that way. “I’m not stupid, Leia, I know he has more to offer you.”

“Offer me? I don’t choose men because of how much money they make or--”

“What about how he can better the resistance? Build the Republic? How the hell am I going to help in that?”

“Are you kidding? You already helped the rebellion, you already aid the Republic!” Leia puts a hand on her forehead, sighing. “You want me to just stand here and stroke your ego because some guy hit on me?”

“He’s the son of the High Mistress!”

“So what?” Leia yells. She takes a breath and Han notices the red tint to her cheeks, the strain in her eyes. “That doesn’t matter to me.”

Leia pushes on his shoulders until Han falls back in his seat. The Falcon is still running, the vibrations strong beneath them. 

“Listen real good, flyboy, because you drive me so crazy, you’re lucky I’m even saying this once.” Her eyes are stern, but there’s a playful and loving tilt to her lips. She points a finger at him. “I don’t want no stuff shirt, entitled Prince or Prime Minister or Senator or Captain or whatever other title you think is so important. I want a scruffy looking, idiot smuggler who can’t get his head out of his ass long enough to realize that I love him and only him. Forever.” She pokes his chest. “He’s very handsome and he’s dangerous and he makes my life a living hell but it makes things more interesting, so I’m going to keep him around, whether he likes it or not.”

Han watches her, his heart pounding in his ears, the rush of her words, the passion behind them, her closeness, raging through him. He swallows as she lowers her finger, searching his brain for something to say, but he’s speechless.

“Oh, now I can get you to shut up,” Leia says, climbing onto his lap.

Han puts a hand on her face and pulls her to him, their foreheads pressing together.

“I like this new quiet Han Solo, it’s very nice.”

“Hey.”

“Oh, damn.” 

She giggles and Han pulls her to his lips. She tastes like their dessert, citrus and creamy chocolate. 

“Sorry, Leia,” Han whispers, kissing her again. 

“Next time, less brooding and just punch the guy already,” she says, her tongue brushing his bottom lip. “Wow, you had a few, huh?”

“Well, I was brooding.”

She laughs again, kissing his cheek, then his jaw.

“Guess I’m piloting.”

“Guess so.”

Han turns them and points out the controls to Leia and she swats his hands away, noting that she already knows what she’s doing. She gets the Falcon off the hanger and out toward the stars and he kisses her neck. 

“I love you,” he says.

“I know.”


	7. Not So Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Han doing Leia’s hair / Han fussing over a pregnant Leia

Pregnancy has been easy on Leia. She’s had a few cravings and there’s been nausea, but nothing she couldn’t work through. Finding clothes to accommodate her growing belly has been her biggest challenge.

That and Han.

Han won’t leave her alone. He’s constantly asking her if she needs anything, and talking about remedies for upset stomachs that Chewie swears always works for Wookie mothers. He helps her bathe (that part is nice) and asks her how she’s feeling every ten minutes (not so nice). She’s not proud to admit she’s made sure to send him on some runs that will last a day or two for some focused peace and quiet. Well, peace and quiet for her.

He’s gone now, off running some plans to a crew that’s stationed remotely on the edge of Dantooine. She misses him, for some reason she always does, even when she shoos him away to clear her mind, she still thinks of him. When he’s gone overnight, she misses the warmth that radiates off his skin like a heater under the covers. She misses the way he sits in the corner of command rooms, his feet propped up, trying to understand a readout or daydreaming. She often catches him looking at her and she rolls her eyes, cheeks flaming.

Her stomach rumbles and she excuses herself, apologizing to the small team assembled in the command room. They nod, understanding, but she still feels terrible. She misses not needing to sleep 8 hours and being able to skip meals for the sake of time.

Leia eats and returns to work. Sometime after the shift has changed, sleep creeps up on her. She yawns and excuses herself, disappointed. She whispers that she’s pregnant and that she needs sleep, for the baby, for both of them.

In her room, she stretches. There’s a few knots in her back and her hips ache. These pains are new but they don’t bother her until the evening and are gone by morning. She takes off her boots and plunks down on her bed as the door opens.

“I didn’t believe them when they said you’d gone to bed.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Han smiles, leaning down to kiss her. “Hello, princess.” Another kiss. “Did you miss me?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Leia hums, grabbing his jacket and pulling him down. His lips are soft and cool from the outside air of the hangar, the fuel still wafting from his clothes. That’s him; he always tastes like adventure and smells like speed.

“How are you feeling?”

Leia rolls her eyes as Han sits behind her, rubbing his thumbs into that spot just below her neck that’s bothering her. She groans and he presses harder, kissing the back of her head. 

“I’m fine.” His hands move lower and she bends over as much as her belly will allow. “I’m tired.”

Han rubs her arms and sneaks a hand over her belly. He presses his index and middle finger a little firmly on her skin. He does this, sometimes even in his sleep, as some kind of sign to his future son that his dad is here. 

“Well, then, let’s get you ready for bed, your worship.”

Leia considers resisting his help, but she can’t find a good reason. 

Han takes off her jacket and hangs it over the metal beam at the foot of her bed. He kisses her neck before he starts pulling the pins from her hair. He does it in a nice, gentle rhythm that must be reminiscent of his piloting and mechanic work. He takes out a pin with one hand and slips his fingers between the strands of her hair with the other before moving onto the next one. When they’re all out, he pushes his hands through her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp. She hums and keeps a hand over her belly as he takes all the waves through his fingers.

“See? I’m not so bad,” Han whispers.

“You have your moments.”

Leia leans her head forward as he gathers her hair and lightly twists three, thick strands. He braids them loosely and then bends the braid back up toward the nape of her neck, pinning it in place. He smooths the braid over her shoulder, so it cascades over her chest. It’s a little messy, definitely too loose, but she’s too warm and relaxed to care.

Han’s boots come off along with his jacket and shirt. When he stands to turn off the light, she admires the tight, smooth muscles of his back and the veins in his arms. He catches her gaze on him and he winks, just as the lights turn out.

In bed, she snuggles into him, his body already acting like a heater for her. Han rubs her sides, the skin over her swollen belly, down to her legs. She sighs, nuzzling his neck.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Anytime.” He kisses her head. “Are you warm enough, do you--”

“Please stop.” Leia groans. “Or put your mouth to better use.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Han throws the blanket up, disappearing underneath.


	8. Life's Too Short, Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: EITHER PROTECTIVE LEIA OR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT HAN AND THEN BEING REUNITED WITH HIM OR SOMETHING!

They lost communication two hours ago.

If everything is fine, he’ll be back in another hour. She has to wait, which is something she’s never been very good at.

So she yells, possibly too loud, for someone to fix the connection and three young men scramble to figure it out while she receives chopped communication rundowns from someone else. For the first time in her life, she’s not really listening. His ship isn’t in the notes, his name isn’t coming up, and she hates herself for being so narrow minded.

She walks out of the room, toward the hangars, but doesn’t go out. Instead, she paces the hall just outside and regains control of her breathing, tells herself all the reasons there could be a miscommunication or a dead patch along the towers, she desperately attempts to refocus, refresh. She tries not to think too hard of his last transmission or the sound he made before the disconnect.

“General.”

Leia turns, but it’s only a faint whisper of an update, hope that isn’t thick enough to hold onto. She goes back into command, and evaluates their known progress. Then she goes into the control room and listens to any and all rebel communication. When the waves that they’ve hacked from the remnants of the Empire come through, she listens there, to see if they have specifics on their victory.

It is the Empire’s victory. Whether Han comes back or not, they won this one, so it’s up to the next few hours for Leia to find out just how far she’s fallen.

She spends four hours in the control room, working. Waiting. She sends out the few medic droids they have for those who return, and Luke comes in briefly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder before he keeps moving. He’s hurting, too. She can feel it.

She meets and discusses battle options for next time, because there really is no time for sorrows. As she draws up plans, designates pilots and leaders, and looks through their supplies and rations, she’s at home again. Leia works until her eyelids won’t stay open. She doesn’t go back to her room, just sleeps in control until the morning’s activity wakes her. At least she didn’t have any nightmares.

The hours they would hope for slip by, turning into days.

Leia works harder, but no one bothers to wonder why, because the Empire is more present than they all thought, so the fight’s gotten bigger. There are maps to review and planets and whole systems to try to convert or help handle an uprising. She draws up plans for an easy transition to the Republic from the Empire and writes speeches for delegates to take with them as they approach star systems. She works, she doesn’t stop working.

Except when hunger gnaws at her stomach or her body begs to shut down and rest just for a little. The grief and longing are brutal in the late hours, alone in her room. Leia finds herself in deep spirals, considering what life will look like without him. She’s thought about it before, she’s only known close calls in her life, it’s easy to get swept up in the what ifs. Sometimes, at night, the image of her planet, her family, disappearing repeats in horrific flashes of deja vu. There’s a piece of her, somewhere lodged in her heart, that will never be filled again. 

As the weeks go by without him, another hole starts to form, but she hasn’t accepted the void. Not yet.

The things she misses are endless and the depth of her grief is unreachable. She digs herself up and puts herself together before she walks out of her room each morning and allows herself to break every night behind the door. The only one who seems to notice her pain is Luke, but he stays distant. They hurt together but entirely separate, like they’ve been hurting and longing their entire lives, in some ways. 

Han’s really the only one who has ever seen her cry, except for her parents. It hurts to cry alone, she misses how he would wipe her frustrated tears off her face. She brushes her own sad tears away, trying to touch her cheeks in the same way, but it’s not the same. Leia just lets them roll down and fall from her chin, fooling herself into thinking perhaps the ghost of him will take care of them for her.

On day 41, she’s meeting with Admiral Akbar because of intelligence he received about an imperial weapons facility on Jakku. She checks his sources and they start building the bare bones of an attack plan. It’ll be a huge mission, but they need the win after their last battle, and if they can shut down more weaponry for the Empire, even better.

“General!”

Leia and Akbar look up toward the door, Leia’s heart jumping into her throat. She was in the middle of assessing the size of the the needed crew and the bang of the door scared her. Raz stands in the doorway, breathing heavy. Akbar and Leia both stand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, sorry, General. Admiral.” Raz takes another breath. “I’m--”

“What’s going on?” Leia asks.

“Hurry, General. The Falcon is coming into the bay.”

Leia apologizes to Akbar, insisting she’ll be right back, but he’s running behind her as she springs past Raz. She runs so fast, she runs even though her lungs burn and her throat is closed. She runs even as someone shouts her name, she runs until she sees it, the Millennium Falcon.

She stands and watches as it rests on the ground, the steam pushing from its vents and surrounding the ship like it’s up in the clouds. Leia tries to get her breathing under control, but everything burns. Her legs burn from all the energy she just used, her heart burns for the possibilities, her eyes burn for the potential disappoints. 

Leia vows, if he’s on that old garbage heap, that she’ll marry him. She’ll let him take her to Corellia and marry her and show her all the streams he misses. She’ll splash in the waters and kiss him in the grass and they’ll be married, they’ll do the whole thing just like he’s wanted for months now.

“Life’s too short, princess,” he said, his lips soft on her neck and hands on her hips, “be my wife.”

The hatch opens, more steam spraying. Chewie is out first and that is relief enough for a moment. He looks tired but Luke runs to him and there’s an exchange of nods and patting of backs and shoulders. Chewie looks at Leia and Leia tightens her fists so she doesn’t cry. Not right now, not in front of everyone.

When she sees him jog down the ramp, her heart stops. His shirt is a mess and his vest is gone, but his blaster is still strapped to his hip. He scans the room, slowing his gait, brow furrowing. She yells his name, or at least she tries. It hardly gets past her lips.

He finds her eyes anyway, and instantly there’s too much room between them. Leia runs even if she hasn’t had enough food and water to properly keep her body running, and Han jogs forward. When they’re only steps apart, Han opens his arms and Leia leaps into them, wrapping herself around him. 

Han stumbles backward, but he holds on tight and keeps himself upright. She squeezes, feeling every muscle in his back, the size of his shoulders. Her fingers sink into his hair, her face is smashed against his neck. She inhales. He smells like the Falcon and sweat and like home.

“Leia,” he chokes.

She burrows her face into his neck so no one sees her cry. He holds her tight, their breaths pushing their chests together. Han digs his fingers into her back, grabbing the fabric of her shirt. He’s trembling.

Han lets her down and when she takes in his face, she sees the fatigue there, mixed with relief. His eyes are glassy as he cups a hand on her cheek. She leans into his hand, closing her eyes.

“You missed me, huh?”

His smirk is there, along with the snark, but his voice shakes.

She swats his shoulder and he pulls her in, kissing her.

Everyone cheers and it’s all too showy and ridiculous to her, but she kisses him anyway. She kisses him because he’s been gone for 41 days and she’s imagined all kinds of futures without him and now she doesn’t have to. Now she can kiss him, taste the desperation on his lips, and feel the love in his fingers as they slip to the back of her neck and pull her closer. She has him now.

He breaks away and she shoves him, her cheeks hot and the embarrassment of their show creeping into her veins. Luke clamps a hand on Han’s shoulder and Chewie gives Leia a huge hug, while the crew celebrates and pat them on the back. 

Han and Chewie debrief, shower, and eat. Leia keeps working, but she’s smiling to herself even if the future of Jakku looks a little bleak. She’s hopeful, though. There’s still more work to be done, of course, but she hands over the reins to someone else and leaves control early; well, early for her.

He’s in her room, sleeping. His arms are wrapped around her pillow, face buried into the fabric, his hair an adorable, floppy mess. She takes off her boots and vest, and through the movements and small sounds, he doesn’t even stir. 

Lifting the covers, Leia slips in next to him. He moans and unwraps his arms from the pillow, holding her instead. She smiles, inhales the cheap soap on his skin, missing the smell of the Falcon, of him. 

“Too many clothes,” Han mumbles, tugging at her shirt.

Leia whacks his arm and sits up, taking off her shirt. Han’s half open eyes widen and he smirks, pulling her on top of him.

The heat is almost too much, the sight of him underneath her, the familiar way he slides his hands down her back, cups and grabs her ass before moving back up to her hair. He takes that route three more times as if he also can’t believe he’s actually here. That this is actually real.

Soon, it’s only skin and their breaths, the grieving gone, replaced by grateful kisses and I love yous whispered between moans. Han touches her face, slides his hands over her body, pushes her up so he can watch her move above him. His eyes are soft, falling closed when she moves a certain way, but quick to open back up so he can take her in again. She does the same, watches his chest rise and fall with his breaths, checks the color in his neck, his cheeks, listens to his words. She’s taking inventory so that she can always remember him, no matter what.

After, she stays on top of him, their bodies connected for as long as they can manage. They kiss, slow and deep, savory kisses that make her veins buzz with electricity and her mind turn to liquid. His fingers do their familiar route along her neck, her back, and her ass before coming back up again. She shivers, sinking her hands into his hair, gripping the strands.

“Don’t do that again,” she demands against his lips.

“I don’t know, this isn’t a bad way to come back.”

Leia bites down on his bottom lip until he groans. She releases him and he smacks her ass, making her yelp. Han pulls her down and kisses her. She smacks his shoulder as he smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist.

They turn on their sides, snuggling into each other. Han’s hands are everywhere, Leia’s lips unable to stop puckering against any piece of skin she can reach. The silence is warm and comfortable and it stretches out, like relief.

“Let’s do it,” she says as sleep starts to envelope her. “Let’s get married.”

He squeezes her tighter, kissing her head.

“I wanted to ask you,” Han says.

“You did, a million times.”

“Yeah, but you always said no.”

“Suck it up,” Leia bites his neck. Han’s body vibrates with silent laughter. “Marry me.”

Han pulls her chin up so he can kiss her, turning them so he’s on top of her. Her eyes widen as he pushes her legs open and he presses against her. 

“What was that?” Han asks, smirking.

“Marry me,” she repeats, like a challenge.

He adjusts above her and pushes and she gasps, their eyes locked.

“One more time,” he whispers.

“Marry me.”

“Yes.” He kisses her. “Yes.” He nips at her lip and pushes again, making her moan into his mouth. “Yes,” he whispers, “I will.”

He will marry her and he will be hers and he’ll never disappear again. These are the promises he makes along her skin and Leia believes every last one.


	9. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: How about some Daddy Han (I see him as a sort of stay-at-home dad while Leia is off trying to liberate the galaxy)?

Fuck. He lost the damn kid.

Okay, he didn’t lose the kid. Possibly. Ben is around here somewhere, but as the minutes tick by without him showing up, Han is starting to worry. Han walks around the Falcon again, checking the cockpit and the gunner positions and even under the floor. Nothing. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

He runs down the ramp and looks around the hangar. There’s a few x-wings being worked on and one y-wing. People walk by and as they do, he just casually, very casually, not at all like a lunatic, asks, “Have you seen Ben?”

Everyone on base knows Ben, so Han really shouldn’t worry. He’s like a mascot for the entire flight crew. Everyone likes to have him sit in the cockpits of their ships and he’s had a wrench in his hands ever since he was strong enough to hold one. 

In other words, this is fine.

Han runs around the hangar, but no one has seen his son. This is like the tragedy of Ben’s busted lip all over again.

“Don’t let him run around the engine of that heap!”

“Hey, he likes that heap!”

There was a lot of kissing afterward, but the fight was brutal. If there’s no son to bring back go Leia, Han is sure there will be no kissing.

Han runs up the stairs and toward their room on base but stops short in the hallway.

There’s Leia, Ben holding her hand. He is fine, completely fine, he doesn’t even notice Han, only looking up at Leia. They have this in common. Both of them constantly find themselves in awe of her.

Leia sees him though, but she doesn’t look nearly as angry as he thought she’d be.

“Lose something?” she asks.

Han closes the gap between them. Ben finally looks at him, his long black hair bouncing as he jumps up to greet his father. Han taps his nose and lifts him up. 

Leia shakes her head while rolling her eyes, but she leans into him, kissing Han and then Ben’s cheek. Han wraps his free hand around her shoulders, pulling her in.

“What will I do with you two?” Leia asks.

“You love us,” Han says. “Right Ben?”

“Mmhm!” Ben nods and Han leans over, whispering in his ear. Leia steps away from them, crossing her arms as if she already senses some kind of trap. “Mama, come work on the Falcon with us, please. We miss you.”  
This kid is good, he makes the W sound with his L’s, and the Fawcon and pwease is sure to win her over.  
“Just for a minute,” she says.

Both Han and Ben raise a fist, cheering. They high five and Han puts his son down so he can walk between them, each of his hands clasped in one of theirs.

So he uses his kid to get more time with his wife and sneaks kisses behind his back. Oh, and he loses his kid sometimes. So what? He loves his little family and sometimes, like right now, when Leia pretends to be Ben’s copilot and their cheers echo in the Falcon’s cockpit, Han feels like his chest might just split open to accommodate all the love there.


	10. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Han and Leia dealing with each other’s post-war nightmares.

The first time, she screams.

Han startles awake, his heart in his throat. Leia’s head is slung back, her neck long and clenched, veins sticking out against her pale skin. Her fist comes down on the mattress and the movement causes her to wake.

She shoots off of the bed, breathing hard, eyes wide and searching. Han says her name and she whips around, her hand raised. He grabs her wrist, saying her name again, more firmly this time, as if the harsh tone will ground her in reality. Her forehead is wet with sweat, pieces of her hair sticking to her face. Leia swallows and tips her chin down, nodding as Han keeps asking if she’s okay.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she says, pushing away his hands.

Han watches her decompress. She moves the hair from her face, swipes her fingers under her eyes, and cracks her knuckles. His heartbeat finally slows to a normal pace and she smiles at him, as if to prove she’s okay. Han’s studied her smiles and he knows this one’s fake. Her eyes aren’t crinkling and her cheeks aren’t that adorable shade of pink. 

He pretends though, just like she is, that everything is fine. He spoons her and she falls asleep unbelievably fast.

The nightmares don’t stop, though, and they spread to him like a virus.

His first one is only a few nights after hers. The nightmare is visceral and clear, he can taste the carbonite and see the steam mixing with oranges and blacks, and the sight of Leia before there was nothing. Except it’s much more painful than it really was. He feels spikes in his face like in Cloud City and his vision goes in and out. It’s like every horrible thing the Empire’s done to him is being torn at him. He even feels the chill of Hoth in his fingers.

They come and go, the level of terror varying each time. 

Han wakes up Leia and soothes her back to sleep, Leia places a hand onto Han’s chest as he tries to get his heart rate to go down after a nightmare so he can go back to sleep. They go back and forth; one screams into the night while the other desperately tries to bring them back to the reality. It’s a shaky reality, one where there’s a war that’ll never end, but they are together and they are safe for the moment. 

They don’t talk about it. Even late at night, when emotions are running high and Han asks her what happened, she pretends to sleep or insists she’s fine. In the morning, she goes on as if nothing happened. This is a woman whose home planet, her entire family, were blown away and she continued to fight; a nightmare must be nothing to her.

Han, however, isn’t as strong. He’s not talking about his nightmares, but they’re making his muscles tremble and his brain fog. Sometimes he doesn’t know where he placed a power cuffling and he doesn’t remember what he’s working on. Leia will give him specific instructions and battle formations and he won’t remember pieces of it. One morning, after an incredibly vivid dream about finding Leia’s dead body among the tall trees on the moon of Endor, Han wept in their bed. Leia wasn’t there and he was both thankful and heartbroken to wake up alone.

Tonight, it’s her. The thrashing wakes him up. She’s giving out these sad, little moans that make him want to extract the horrors from her brain. He presses himself into her side and props his chin up in his hand, his other sliding up her torso until his fingers are in her hair, sweeping the strands away from her face. 

“Leia,” he whispers, “Leia.”

She wakes up slowly, which is new, but he’s never tried this method. Her eyes are wide and busy, taking the room in. Finally, her gaze locks on him and her hand slowly rests on top of his cupping her cheek. He kisses her softly and she matches it, pressing her lips to his and their mouths open slowly, cautiously.

Han pulls away, smoothing his thumb along her bottom lip. Her sad, brown eyes study him.

“You okay?” he asks.

She shakes her head and for the first time, she looks and feels small. Han kisses her cheek and she turns, snuggling into him and he adjusts. She holds onto him so tightly while he rubbing her back in long strokes. He doesn’t know she’s crying until he feels the tears on his arm.

“Hey.”

Han tries to pull away to look at her, but Leia buries her face in his chest. He holds her, figuring she’ll fall asleep while he worries about what horrible images haunt her at night. 

However, tonight, she talks.

“I was on Alderaan, when it -- when it -- when it --” She sobs and Han holds onto her, silent, so she can pretend she’s not admitting anything. “But I didn’t die, I was there to watch it all… my mom…”

Her voice is broken and raw, wrecked by sobs that shake her entire body. It’s startling to feel her this way, it’s hard to imagine a world where Leia isn’t the strongest one in the room. 

“It’s my fault!” she yells into his chest.

Han’s throat closes and he’s pissed about it because this is the time, this is the time to help her through this. To tell her that it’s not, none of this is her fault. His chest tightens. Leia’s kept this guilt inside her for years. Guilt that’s eating her up inside, guilt he’s never known was haunting her. How could he not know? 

He swallows, trying to find his voice. It comes out shaky and probably unheard over her cries.

“It’s not your fault,” he says. “It’s not your fault.”

He keeps telling her, gaining more strength and volume as he goes. He’s not quite sure how long he’s saying it as she cries into his chest, but it feels like eternity. Helplessness bores into him, makes him hold her tighter. She hiccups and her lips pucker on his skin. She finally pulls back, her cheeks stained with tears, eyes red and wet. He kisses her nose and she moves so she can kiss his lips.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“It’s not your fault,” Han spits out. She smiles at him, rolling her eyes. “Hey, I know you don’t want to listen to me, but you better right now, princess. It’s not your fault.”

“Sometimes I know that, sometimes I don’t.”

“Tell me when you don’t.” 

“I’ll try,” she offers, kissing him. 

Han places a hand on her cheek. He wants to make her promise to tell him every time, but he holds back the greed and nods. Leia nestles back into him, snuggling her face into his neck. Her breath is warm against his skin, her voice soft.

“Tell me one of yours.”

He tells her about her death among the trees and she kisses him to remind her she’s alive. It helps, it brings some invisible weight off his chest, just like he hopes it did for her. They’re healing, and it’s a relief to know that this is only the beginning.


	11. Love and Falling Meteors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Han x Leia, Imagine your OTP waking up at an absurd hour of the night/morning to watch a meteor shower

“Leia.”

She’s in that peaceful place between sleep and waking where the possibility of returning to dreaming is possible, so she ignores the voice and the soft touch of lips on her cheek.

“Leia.”

His voice becomes louder. Leia turns away, groaning and pushing his hand that holds onto her shoulder away. He laughs against her hair, a low, sleepy chuckle that warms her. 

Damnit, she’s waking up now.

“Go away,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut as if that will help at all.

Han growls and slides both arms around her and squeezes. She grabs at his hands, trying to pry them off but he holds strong, moving his hands all over her torso and squeezing her breasts, laughing. 

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he says, kissing her cheek.

Leia flattens her palm against his face and pushes him as hard as she can. He flies back and there’s a thump as he hits the floor. He laughs and she fights her own laughter but eventually loses.

She turns around and finds him sitting up on the floor, shirtless, all sleepy smiles and messy hair. Her heart beats a little slower and the annoyance drifts away. Han does crazy things to her, he can slow her down or speed her up and she’s never sure which affect he’ll have on her on any given day -- or any given moment.

Han stands, mumbling something about grouchy princesses, and finds his jacket, slipping it on. He leaves the buttons undone and the whole picture of him like this makes her want to pull him back in bed.

He throws a coat at her along with a pair of pants and she yelps.

“Come on, we’re running late.”

“For what?”

Since when does Han have any concept of time? It's also the middle of the night, but it's not like they haven't had to hold meetings or appointments in the early hours of the morning. 

“Romance, sweetheart.” 

He winks and disappears into the bathroom.

She sighs but puts on her pants and the long coat. She finds her boots and slips them on as Han comes out of the bathroom, a toothbrush in his mouth. Leia brushes her hair and tries to flatten the wisps of hair that have fallen out of her braid, but Han pulls her out and through the halls of the base.

“We can't leave,” she says as he makes the turn toward the hangar.

“Don't worry, your highness, we aren't leaving,” he says, “and you _can_ leave.”

“I cannot -- will you let go of me?!” 

He’s been pulling her by the arm, his long legs quickly dragging them through the base. He glances at her and slows down, slipping his hand to hers, lacing their fingers together.

There's a few pilots working on their fighters and Leia waves to them as they go through the hangar. She suddenly feels vulnerable and ridiculous traipsing through the place with Han’s shirt underneath her coat and her hair messed up from sleep. Han’s jacket is still open and she almost tells him to button it.

Han takes her to the south landing pad and walks all the way to the edge. The sky is black, dotted with endless white stars in the distance, she can see the cloudy swirls of other systems. The moon is tiny, far off to her right. 

He motions to the ground, bowing a little like he's just pulled a seat out for her. She shakes her head, biting the corner of her mouth so he can't see the smile he's creating. 

She sits on the cold, smooth ground, folding her legs in front of her. 

“One moment,” Han says and jogs back inside. 

She waits, letting the butterflies take over her stomach. She pretends there's not so much left to do and to fight for and pretends she's looking up at the night sky from the balcony of her room on Alderaan. The moon was always much bigger and brighter there.

The flood lights go out and Leia blinks, adjusting to the darkness. The sky somehow expands above her, more stars appearing as she stares. The planets become clearer, tinted with reds and blues. She pulls her jacket closed a little more as a breeze rolls by.

Her mind starts to trail away, on to the points she needs to make in the morning meeting, when Han plops down next to her. He sighs, one of his very pleased with himself sighs, and rubs his hands together. The only artificial light is from the small red and yellow landing lights along the edge of the pad and they softly illuminate Han’s smug face.

“What is this?” Leia asks, nudging him. 

Han puts an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She falls into him and he maneuvers them until she’s sitting between his legs, her back against his chest. His arms wrap around her front, resting on her chest.

“Well, while you’re busy saving the galaxy, I--”

Leia gasps and smacks Han’s leg. “A meteor!”

Han groans, tightening his grip on her.

“Yes, a meteor shower. So much for surprises,” he mumbles.

Leia gasps and looks back at him. She isn’t one to cry from happiness, but a meteor shower is her guilty pleasure. It’s the one thing that instantly puts her back on Alderaan in front of her bedroom window when she’s supposed to be sleeping. Meteor showers turn her into a child, they make her smell the floral, clean smell of her bedsheets, make her heart jump and want to explore the stars and all the systems.

She’s seen so much now, forest moons and desert planets, worlds that almost suspend in air and others that never see sunlight. She’s seen death and destruction, injustice and heartbreak. Everything she’s seen and felt has been etched into her, and the galaxy hardly surprises her anymore.

Except for meteor showers.

Han’s heard her talk about them ever since he caught her watching one a few weeks ago from a rooftop on Coruscant. The sky isn’t as clear there but she could catch a few. Each time she had to wait for another, there was an excited weight against her chest that would jump with each trail of white across the sky. That energy made her lean against him and confess everything like she was harboring some deep secret. Pleasure has always felt like a luxury.

“Han,” Leia whispers.

She nestles back into his chest, staring at the sky. That tightening in her chest starts as she waits for another one to fly. It doesn’t take long and she digs her nails into Han’s arms when she sees it. Her heart beats in her ears in a steady rhythm. The meteors come rather quickly and Leia doesn’t notice she’s sat forward until Han starts rubbing her shoulders and back. She points out ones that comes out more blue in color and gasps when one sends such a long, beautiful white streak through the black. She gets lost in them, unaware of anything at all but the innocent surprises in the sky.

“Watch it, princess, you’re going to fall off.”

Han grabs her and gently moves her back from the edge. She lets him move her and doesn’t mind when his fingers sweep away the fallen hair on her neck. She smiles and nudges him away when he kisses beneath her ear. She watches a few more meteors fly by before Han’s mouth finds her skin again, his tongue pushing between his lips, making her eyes flutter shut.

“Han,” Leia whines, “I’m going to miss them.”

He only hums, continuing to kiss her neck, nudging his nose against her collar to expose more skin to kiss. His hands sneak around her torso, sliding over her chest and her stomach, gripping her hips and pulling her closer to him.

She continues to watch the meteors, her eyes closing when Han sucks her skin or his hand wanders low. While she’s lost in the stars, Han maneuvers them so he’s to his side again. He nudges her chin with his finger, turning her lips to his. He kisses her and she struggles to keep watching, but his lips separate hers and she gets lost in Han.

The weightless joy from the meteorite pieces flow through her, causing her hands to slide into his jacket, feeling the muscle, hair, and skin of his chest. He inhales and cups her face, pulling as if there is any more room between them to fill. Breathless, Han kisses along her jaw and down her throat. 

Leia opens her eyes and watches the meteors fall, small sighs and moans escaping her mouth as Han nuzzles his face into her neck and pushes his fingers beneath the waistband of her pants.

“You’re missing it,” Leia whispers. 

Han’s hand slides lower, but he stops. Her heart skips while she waits, not sure what he will do, not sure what she wants him to do. She doesn’t want to miss the show, but she’s warm and tingling and _Han surprised her with a meteor shower_. She reaches for his jacket and grips, pulling his lips to hers. His hand moves again and she gasps, pulling away. 

“I’m not missing anything,” he says.

His fingers move slowly, carefully. He smirks at her as she gasps and whispers his name as a warning but it doesn’t come out right. Instead, it eggs him on, his fingers moving a little faster, and her eyes struggling to stay open.

“Eyes up, your worship,” he teases. “You wouldn’t want to miss the show.”

Leia rolls her eyes and pulls him down to kiss her again, closing her eyes. She opens her mouth and he moans against her tongue. She’s tingling, her skin on fire and her veins buzzing with electricity. His fingers keep moving and his tongue is delicate and slow in her mouth.

She clings to him and lets herself feel all of it, the touch of him, the taste of him, the way his voice and breaths seem to become a part of her. She can also sense the movements of meteors in the sky, can see the white against the black. The wind of their pass slides through her hair, Han’s breath mixing with hers and she’s absolutely weightless.

“Was this a trick to get into my pants?” Leia asks between uneven breaths.

“Well,” Han says, kissing her, “I am a scoundrel.”

She almost laughs, almost corrects him to let him know he’s nice, to thank him for this, to tell him she loves him, but she can’t. She can’t do much of anything except feel and watch the meteors fly.


	12. Living a Little Recklessly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: based off [this gifset](http://ashishorny.tumblr.com/post/137062006761/mlder-im-glad-its-over-toughest-job-i-ever). !smutty!

This is ridiculous, she feels ridiculous, but she’s also incredibly, impossibly happy.

Corellia is beautiful, almost as lush and varied as Han described, but it’s a bit more, too. Coronet City is indescribable. It’s peaceful and yet it’s also pumping with pride and industry, it’s residents and city structures standing proud and gorgeous. Leia touched the sides of buildings, tall trees, she even cried when Han read an inscription outside a factory building. 

The hormones, she has to remind herself of the hormones.

The hormones made her decide to go to Corellia for the day since everything seemed calm for once and she, and everyone else, needed the rest. Han even grabbed her shoulders and asked her again if she was sure before they took off. The hormones made her lips tilt in a smile and say, “Gun it, flyboy.”

She also worries, though. Throughout Han’s unofficial tour of the City and their short hikes along cliffs, stopping to kiss and point at the wildlife along the way, she’s thinking about what could be going on within the rebellion. Every time they get back on the Falcon, she checks in. Everything’s the same, the usual muddled, grey area of their next steps for implementing the Republic again and making sure the Empire is stamped out. It’s a slow, almost painfully slow, process.

“Wahoo!”

Leia turns back just in time to see Han run down the beach, shirtless, toward the water. The waves are crashing nicely along the sand, creating a rhythmic sound that echoes around the small cove. Han knew this place rather quickly and Leia decides to not wonder who else he may or may not have brought here. 

Han splashes into the water a few feet and then trips, flying face first into the waves. He comes up, hair dripping and sun bouncing off of his skin and Leia’s heart swells. He looks like a kid, his smile almost too big for his face and the enthusiasm and giddiness is radiating off him. He doesn’t talk about Corellia a lot, and from what she understands of his childhood, it wasn’t a happy one, but this place does bring out the kid in him.

Han spreads his arms out as a wave hits him from behind. He yells but Leia doesn’t hear him. She shakes her head, shrugging, and he tries again.

“Come in!” 

She smiles, tilting her head as she walks towards him. He jogs as best he can to her until he’s out of the water, his feet sinking into the wet sand with each step. When he reaches her, she notices how caked in wet sand his toes are. She wiggles her own, trying to match him.

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” Leia teases.

“I didn’t either.” Han pulls her close and his skin is wet and cold, sending shivers down her spine. She pushes up on the balls of her feet to kiss him. “Just take ‘em off.”

Leia laughs into another kiss and he even pulls on her clothes but she shoves him away. He puts up his hands in mock surrender. Leia walks a little more toward the water, the waves crashing at her ankles. The water is freezing but it’s a small relief from the hot sun. Han holds her hand as they walk and she notices that he’s pulling her into the water more and more. She goes up to her thighs and stops, pulling him back.

“It’s cold,” she says and Han splashes her. She splashes him back and she has a fleeting thought of them as careless teenagers instead of war wrecked adults who both suffered from short childhoods. “And…” she trails off, putting a hand on the very small start to her rounding stomach.

“Ah,” Han says, his eyes softening. His free hand comes to meet hers on her tummy and he presses two fingers onto it. “Hey little guy, stop ruining all the fun.”

Leia smacks his arm and he laughs, flopping back into the water. She watches him swim out, his head becoming smaller and smaller as he goes. She steps back carefully, turning back to watch him every now and then. The sun feels good on her cool legs as she sits on the sand, watching the little bobbing head of Han in the distance. 

Sometime later, she’s not sure how long, Han comes back from the ocean, dripping wet and breathing hard. He sits beside her, shaking his hair so it sends droplets of water all over her now warm skin. She laughs, opening her eyes, shielding them from the sun with her hand as she looks up at him.

He’s smiling still, he can’t seem to stop smiling. His face is its usual rugged handsome, but he’s grown out this ridiculous layer of scruff along his jaw that makes him look even more, well, scruffy looking. He grabs her hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. Han tangles their fingers together and looks up toward the sun, sighing.

It’s the hormones, maybe -- no, the hormones and the scruff that make her sit up and kiss his cheek. They’re out in public, maybe not the most public place but definitely a place where anyone who wants to take a dip in the ocean could wander, so she’s not going to go crazy or anything. She just wants to kiss his innocent, scruffy cheek and inhale the salt and sand on his skin.

He hums and Leia kisses him again, a little lower this time, right on his jawline. Another kiss at the corner of his mouth makes his hand move to her lower back. He moves her shirt out of the way of his fingers so he can touch her skin.

Leia figures she already kissed him along a cliff next to an old man _and_ she kissed him on this beach a few times already, so she might as well kiss him now. 

She captures his lips with hers, pushing against them with a need that she didn’t know she was harboring until this moment. The salt tastes perfect mixed with Han’s usual taste, it adds depths to the movement of his tongue, the brushing of his lips. Leia sits up a little straighter, so she can get a little closer. His hands are all over her now, in her hair, pressing into the back of her neck, digging underneath the neckline of her shirt and the hem of her skirt.

“Hey, now,” she warns, but his hand ghosts over her breast and she moans. 

So much for convincing him she doesn’t want this.

The electricity from his touch, the heat of his lips, they all coarse through her. The waves seem louder now, and it’s almost like she can feel all the individual pieces of sand underneath her. She’s hyper aware; this happens sometimes when they’re alone, when they’re nothing but touches and kisses and whispered words.

Han’s hand moves up her skirt and he wastes no time getting where she wants him to be. Her legs open and he pushes aside her underwear and his fingers are their usual combination of cautious and greedy. He always moves fast and then slows as if he’s done something she hasn’t begged him for.

This time she pulls on his neck and falls back into the sand. They bump teeth on the way down, making them both smile before Han’s fingers cause her to moan. He pushes inside, his fingers curling up with each thrust, and Leia clutches to his shoulders, pulling away from his mouth to breathe.

Han travels down her neck, sucking on the skin in a sloppy, hot trail to her chest. The neckline of her shirt gives him some liberties to her skin, the top of her breasts, but he groans when he can’t quite get there. She giggles and he pushes in deeper, making her gasp. He looks at her with desperate, confused eyes like there’s a grand injustice of her wearing a shirt. She shakes her head at him and pulls him to her again, his hand moving from her. She groans, missing him and his touch, but pushes her tongue into his mouth to make up for the loss. 

Her fingers move to the clasp of his pants. They’re difficult to get off since he’s hard and the pants are wet. Leia pushes him away, growling and his chest expands and contracts with heavy breaths as she works to get his pants down just enough. His forehead falls on hers and she glances at him. He’s smirking but his eyes are clear and happy, turning her blood to lava.

“Let me,” he says, swatting her hands away.

She watches as he takes out his dick, his long fingers firm around the shaft. She swallows, her mouth watering. Han is beautiful, from the inside, out, from his fractured, irritating ways and his smart mouth, to his eyes and strong hands. His cock is no exception and she will not be ashamed of admitting it. It’s just fact. 

Han leans over her, aligning their bodies. She feels him, hard and perfect right where she needs him, but he stops, kissing her lips softly.

“Thank you,” he whispers, tongue sliding over her bottom lip. “For bringing me home.”

Leia lifts a shaking hand up to his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. She licks her lips and opens her mouth to speak, but Han pushes in first, making her gasp.

The clouds move above her and she’s acutely aware of the breeze passing between them. The waves are loud in her ears, tangling with the sounds of Han’s breathing, his groans, the way her name sounds when he’s fucking her. It’s a softer sound, sometimes it’s aggressive and fueled by something else like pleasure or need, but when it’s like this, it’s just like a breath, like his lungs are made of a thousand Leias that he just needs to exhale.

Han groans, digging his hands in the sand and moving faster, harder. He’s choking out swears, saying half thoughts about how she feels, I love you’s lost to breaths. Leia’s skin is on fire, the flames licking her in the best way and each time Han thrusts into her, her eyes squeeze shut and there are colorful explosions behind her eyelids.

“Han,” she moans. 

He responds by moving faster, but he lifts his head to kiss her. His lips are shaking and his thrusts are so erratic, she knows he’s close to finishing. She’s not, but the pregnancy has fueled her hormones in a new way. Sometimes she orgasms before he’s even gotten her clothes off, sometimes it just takes a soft press to her clit while he fucks her. It’s exhilarating and great and totally new.

Han lifts his hand and slides it through his hair before pressing it against her growing stomach and moving it down where their bodies meet. He sneaks his fingers over her clit, circling. It’s clumsy and hard, it’s just what she needs.

She whispers his name again and he thrust a few more times before his moans echo in her ears and he’s cursing, exploding inside her. Leia reaches for his hips and guides him to keep thrusting because the electricity is buzzing and her muscles are tightening and the way he pulses inside her while he thrusts, the way the muscles shake in his fingers are making her climb.

“Han,” she says, desperate.

Her name tumbles out of his mouth, “I love you” following between shaky breaths and she’s gone.

She doesn’t realize how loud she’s moaning until Han covers her lips with his. After she gets her breaths under control again, she blushes, covering her face and trying to push Han away. She had sex on a public beach on Corellia. She really has lost her mind. She isn’t sure if she can even blame pregnancy hormones on this one.

Han rolls off of her, pushing her skirt back down and buttoning his pants. She feels sandy and uncomfortable but she’s smiling anyway, her cheeks burning. Han has to uncover her face, nudging his nose over hers and kissing her lips.

“I like pregnant you,” Han says, “impulsive trips, sex on the beach--ow!”

She giggles as Han grabs her wrist and pushes her down into the sand. He gives her some mock angry look and then kisses her.

He sighs when he pulls away, flopping onto his back on the sand next to her. His fingers find hers and he doesn’t hold her hand as much as he just weaves their fingers together lazily. His snores join the sounds of crashing waves and the soft breeze against her ears. Leia puts a hand on her stomach and closes her eyes.

They’ll both get sunburned if she falls asleep, but Leia hasn’t been very cautious today, so she let’s herself doze off and live a little recklessly for a bit longer.


	13. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: was wondering if u'd write a follow up to chapter 3 (the, ahem, leia being eaten out chapter), like idk the morning after or something. / Han and Leia blowjobs?????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, indeed, a follow up to [Help](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5548964/chapters/12842848)! Just like that one, this drabble is canon divergent, taking place on Hoth before Episode V. I also combined two prompts here, follow up fic and blow job fic all in one! Enjoy, thanks for being amazing, everyone. <3

Nothing in particular wakes him, there’s no sound of alarm and he’s sure it’s not even morning yet, but he wakes up anyway. 

It’s a slow, dreamlike waking, possibly due to the fact that he’s not alone. Han hasn’t slept in a bed with another person in so long. He hasn’t slept in a bed with someone like Leia in his entire life.

She’s warm and small, curled into his side, her breaths almost tickling his skin through the opening of his shirt. His insides are weightless, like he’s on a cloud or in that perfect sweet spot of cruising among the stars that always gives him a slow calm. He inhales, like he does in the air, and is careful to slowly let it out so as not to disturb her. His arm underneath her has fallen asleep, but it doesn’t matter.

Han closes his eyes, but sleep doesn’t come again. It’s the optimistic, confusing flourish in his stomach; it’s so loud and noticeable, there’s no way he could fall asleep again. He adjusts, not wanting to wake her, but he can’t sit still. Luckily, she doesn’t wake, just breathes a little faster and snuggles closer to him. She moans with an exhale and it sends a slow burn over his skin. 

He’s with Leia. Leia Organa, princess and rebel, pain in the ass and, if Han is being completely honest, the love of his life.

He decides, however, not to be _too_ honest. He still has no fucking idea how he got her to follow him to the Falcon, with one very specific intention. Han licks his lips, missing the taste of her already, wondering if he’ll even get to taste her again. He wouldn’t blame her, but he wouldn’t stop trying to get her either. His love for her is complicated, self deprecating and desperate all at once. He doesn’t deserve her, but he needs her. It drives him crazy, like his chest is constantly being pulled apart.

Last night should’ve cleared some of his confusion, but it only fogged him further. She was incredible, everything he expected and more. It was more proof that he didn’t deserve her but only made him fall deeper, and now? Now he isn’t sure he can live a life without her. 

He closes his eyes and remembers. He remembers how her legs perfectly fit onto his shoulders, how she was velvet soft and wet, tasting incredible. The rhythm of her hips, pressing her pussy harder into his face was hypnotizing. Han would never be able to explain it, but he also felt like something was lifting them up and molding them together. He’s had sex before, eaten pussy before, but nothing, _nothing_ has ever infected him the way she did. 

Leia’s already buried under his skin, buzzing and permanent, but last night was more. There was a tug at his chest toward her, there was a warmth and comfort and need that he’s never had before. When she said his name, it was like a jolt of life sprang inside him. Right now, her small body on his side, his hand clasped in hers, that feeling stays and he is both elated and terrified that the feeling will never leave.

Han sighs again, shifting once more because his feelings are overwhelming now. He’s confused, comfortable, warm, cold (fucking Hoth), scared, tired, and turned on. His stomach churns, his fingers restless over Leia’s skin along her arm that rests on his stomach.

Leia groans and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to move. He doesn’t even breathe. She stirs and coughs a little, unwrapping herself slowly from him. His heart dips as she stretches next to him, linking her ankle over his when she’s done.

Han chances a glance at her and finds her big brown eyes slowly opening. Han loves those eyes. He loves them when they’re almost black and full of anger, when they’re lost and staring in the distance, when they’re focused and strong, when they’re on him when she thinks he doesn’t notice. He loves that there’s always something behind them, like she’s building governments and fighting injustice right behind them, always. Last night, he loved how they would round in surprise and flutter closed from his touch.

She looks at him, blinking awake. She smiles and then bites her lips closed slowly as she studies him. He’s not sure if he should tear his gaze from her, but he doesn’t want to. There are sleep lines on her chin and her cheeks are blushed, eyes glazed, and she’s never looked so vulnerable. She’s also cute, which is never a word he’s used to describe her, and he has quite a thick dictionary of words for her.

Leia rolls toward him again, grabbing his hip and gently pulling him so he turns into her. She wraps an arm around him, slinks her leg between his, and presses her face into his chest.

“You’re warm,” she mumbles into his skin.

He kisses her head. She burrows deeper into him and her hips move over his and he closes his throat so he doesn’t moan. He swallows instead and he’s thankful because her hips slowly, very slowly, roll against his again.

There’s a slow dance of adjusting. Han tries to get his arms around her while she finds a comfortable place to put hers. She pushes his leg to make more room for hers, so they are somehow even closer, and Han exhales at the way they fit together. Leia is still not wearing any pants so he creeps his hand up her shirt a little to expose more skin, rubbing his hand along her side from her ribcage to her thigh. After a few trips along this route, he takes a detour to her ass and she stiffens but pushes her hips against him and he takes it as encouragement to keep rubbing his hand over her ass with each pass.

Soon, they keep moving against each other, craving fiction. It’s a slow build of cautious moves, Han pretends he’s not doing it and Leia doesn’t say anything when she responds with her own thrust of her hips. Han’s grateful he slipped out of his pants before he fell asleep because he can feel her perfectly with only the soft fabric of his underwear between them. He moves his hand over her breast, over her clothes, and she moans so he squeezes and her back arches, pushing her hips hard into his. He growls and moves his hand back down to her hips to help move her faster, harder.

She finally tilts her head up to look at him and he presses his forehead to hers. Their noses brush, eyes moving between faces and the movement of their bodies. Her mouth falls open soundlessly sometimes, and other times she closes her lips firmly and there’s a muffled moan trapped inside her mouth. He kisses her lips, cautious of whatever morning breath he may be harboring but as soon as her tongue touches his bottom lip, he doesn’t give a shit about that anymore.

Leia pushes away from him, and quickly sits up in bed. Han’s heart beats rapidly in his ears. She’s leaving. She’s realized this is the worst idea, that she’s no good for him, and that she doesn’t give a shit if he gets lost in the blizzards of Hoth and gets eaten by a Wampa. 

However, she doesn’t leave. She stays, moving over on his bed, and grabbing his shirt to maneuver him how she wants him, which is apparently on his back. He reaches for her and she smacks his hand away.

“Hey,” he protests.

She moves down the bed, taking the blanket with her and the cold air bites at his skin. He contemplates getting up to turn on the heater but it only works half the time and by the way Leia looks at him, he’s sure he’s not supposed to do anything that she doesn’t tell him to do. Or make him do.

Leia shakes her hands and takes a breath, squaring her shoulders, before tugging off his underwear. Han’s eyes widen with the release of the pressure. She crawls over him, the sight of her bare hips and legs making his mouth water. Leia places a hand on his hip and slowly, carefully wraps her other hand around his dick.

Just her simple touch makes his eyes roll and head fall back. Her fingers tighten and move a little and he tries to grip the sheets but they slip underneath his fingers. He looks back at her and she’s focused, bottom lip tight between her teeth, as her hand moves again. She moves up and down, her other hand slowly sliding over his hip, toward his dick. It joins in, exploring him with a curious, cautious touch. He should be cold, but Leia’s touch is sending heat throughout his body.

He trembles as she goes and he whispers her name along with a few swears that make her move faster. Sometimes she’s a little rough, a hiss escaping through his teeth makes her slow or loosen her grip. She leans down, as if she’s contemplating the next step of this and he doesn’t pressure her, he would never pressure her, but when her lips finally touch him, he whimpers out the most pathetic and desperate, “ _Please_.”

She takes him in her mouth so full and quick, it’s completely startling. He gasps, his fist hitting the mattress. She pulls back and slides over him again, deeper this time, but just as fast; he’s sure his brain is overheating, short circuiting, exploding. Her mouth is wet and warm, and she’s making theses small sounds that make goosebumps rise on his arms. 

Leia takes him out of her mouth fully and her eyes find his, questioning. Her hand is absently moving along his dick, from the base of his shaft all the way to the head, rounding over the tip before doing it again. It’s a light touch, almost lazy, and it’s making all of him come undone.

“Yes,” he says, as if he can sense her question.

She smiles, her cheeks pink. The moisture on her lips makes his back arch a little and she looks back down to his dick, watching as her hand moves over it. Her fingers tighten, move more deliberately. Her thumb smooths over the tip with each turn and her wrist twists as she hits the base of his dick. Her fingers brush his balls and he swears under his breath. She doesn’t move away from them and her mouth returns, leaving him breathless and alive.

It won’t take him long, he can tell. From their earlier activity, from him admiring her for months, from all the dreams and fantasies he’s had, and the lack of action he’s gotten in years, he’s not going to last. She must sense it, or something, because she moves even faster, her tongue sliding over him, fat and warm and everything he needs. His hips move even though he doesn’t mean to and she responds in kind, groaning and slurping and Han no longer knows what planet he’s on, where he is, or anything else besides Liea. Only Leia. Forever Leia.

He warns her as best he can and soon every muscle in his body is tight and stars are hurling past him at light speed behind his eyelids. He releases into her mouth and feels her tongue stop for a few moments before she eagerly licks him clean. The whole time she does this, he’s swearing, mumbling incoherent half thoughts and shaking. He grabs at her hair, her arms, her hands, but each touch is soft and hardly at all demanding of her attention. 

Finally, she stops, kissing his stomach before sitting up. Han forces his eyes open so he can look at her. She’s wiping her mouth and swallowing, not meeting his eyes. Her thumb rubs the corner of her mouth and then runs along her bottom lip. His limbs feel useless but he already misses her so he tries as hard as he can to lift his hand and she smiles shyly at him, reaching for it. He tugs and she falls onto his chest.

They adjust together again. Leia covers them with the blanket and Han holds onto her tight, Leia wrapping herself around him. Her skin is chilled so he rubs his hand along her arm and kisses her nose.

“I liked that,” Leia says.

Oh hell, he can’t let her go now.

“Me too,” Han says.

“I still hate you, though,” she says against his lips.

He groans into a kiss. It slowly builds but it’s lazy and comfortable, a new type of kiss for him. 

“You think I’m alright.”

Leia smiles and Han kisses her teeth but she quickly responds, kissing him. Her tongue darts to his and he pulls back, teasing.

“You have to admit I’m alright,” he presses.

“Maybe,” Leia says. 

She tries to kiss him again. This time he lets her.

“Come on,” Han says between kisses. “You maybe even _like_ me, princess.”

His stomach burns with possibility and hope.

“Maybe,” she says.

“Come on.” 

His hand moves down her stomach, pressing between her legs. She gasps, arching her back, spreading her thighs.

“Yeah,” he says, trying to shove every ounce of desperation away with a kiss to her lips, a trace of his finger. “You like me.”

“A little,” she whispers, her breath hitching.

For now, he’ll take it. For now, that’s enough.


	14. The Bravest Man in the Galaxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: How about Leia kissing the Scar on Han's Chin and asking where he got it?

Leia first asks about Han’s scar in the soft, post-sex quiet on the moon of Endor. It wasn’t comfortable or the most graceful time they’ve had but Han’s hands were their usual soft and delicate on her skin and she was so happy they were alive that it didn’t really matter. 

Among the leaves, Han mumbles something about the possibility of little fuzzy friends lurking around while he pulls down Leia’s skirt. He has sweat on his brow and Leia rubs her thumb along his hairline, swiping it away. As her hand trails down his cheek, he kisses her fingers right before she traces his scar.

“How’d you get this?” she asks, taking another turn across the soft, raised skin.

“It would scare you,” Han says, his voice deep and mouth tilted. “Best not to know.”

She rolls her eyes but he kisses her until she’s breathless and forgets the scar.

The next time, Leia’s feeling nauseated because of the small baby growing in her tummy who demands so much attention that he’ll get it even if it makes his mother sick. She wants to be mad at the little guy, but she can’t. 

Han is sitting with her in the comm room because he refuses to leave. He insists she needs to see a medical droid and get some rest, but she’s fine. She and this little guy understand each other in a way Han doesn’t know yet. All her son wants is a little attention, and Leia is giving it to him by drinking tea and rubbing her growing stomach.

Leia puts her chin in her hands, turning a little to watch Han grab a stool and pull it up to her. He sits, grabs her booted foot, and takes off her shoe. Leia smiles as he winks at her, his hands already moving over her socks to rub her swollen feet.

She’s thought a lot about her baby boy. Who he’ll be, what he’ll look like, what personality traits he’ll have inherited from her or Han. She hopes he has Han’s eyes, so much lighter and playful than her own. She wants him to have Han’s big nose, his crooked mouth, his everything really. She hopes he’s strong like her father -- her biological and surrogate father -- and noble like her uncle. She wants him to have Han’s sense of humor because a child born in a war time like this needs it to survive. 

She watches Han, his brow furrowed in concentration as he massages her feet. He almost squeezes and rubs too hard but she likes it, it’s perfect. Sometimes, his eyes glance up at her and he looks away like he can’t believe he’s doing this, as if she demanded it of him. She never has, not once, but he does it almost every night anyway.

“Hey,” she says softly, “how did you get that scar on your chin?”

She loves that scar, if she could make it happen, her son would have one to match when he came out.

“Now, now princess, I can’t tell you that.” He shakes his head solemnly. “It’s a tragic tale and way too scary for a woman in your condition.”

She shoves him with her foot and he lets out a chuckle that is almost just a breath. He brings her leg up to his face and kisses the inside of her ankle. He kisses up her thigh and burrows his face between her legs almost comically, and her giggles and eye rolling give way to a gasp as he unbuttons her pants and slips his fingers inside.

Leia asks a few more times over the years and she’s met with similar answers. Even Ben asks while Han’s tucking him in. Ben is four then and Han lives to tell his son about all his smuggling adventures. Leia would be worried, but Ben sits with her during senate meetings and combat strategizing sessions and she’s sure all the good and bad is evening out inside him.

She doesn’t get to know the truth until one very normal evening. They put Ben to bed hours ago and Han, freshly showered and sleepy eyed, is letting his hands roam all over Leia’s body. They’re lazy, soft touches that make her dizzy.

Han fucks her, slow and from behind, arms wrapped around her waist while her own fingers bring her over the edge. When he slips out, she has that familiar rush of loneliness she always gets, but Han quickly wraps himself around her like a lifeline and the feeling is gone completely.

“Maybe we’ll have another one,” he whispers, voice hoarse and low in her ear. He kisses her hair.

She smiles. She would like another child, but one is enough with all she does, all he does, all that is left to do.

“Maybe,” she says. Leia turns in his arms and they tangle together. “I guess we did all right with this one.”

Ben is perfect. He’s lanky and clumsy and cuddly. She loves to kiss his head and squeeze him tight, she loves watching Han lift him up and make flying and battle noises as they run around bases, hangars, and their small home. Sometimes, though, Ben screams when he wakes, nightmares that he can’t explain wreck him from the inside out, tearing him apart. Luke says it could be his powers unfiltering through him during subconscious. It scares both Han and Leia, and Ben spends many nights in their bed, snoring between them. They say it is to help him with the nightmares, but they both know it’s really to help _them_.

Tonight, Ben’s in his bed. He’s seven but still runs into the room when he’s having nightmares, but so far they are alone. Leia kisses Han’s nose, his forehead, his chin. She darts her tongue out a little to touch his scar and she hums, backing away to look at him.

“Tell me about the scar now, flyboy,” she says, “I want to know.”

Han closes his eyes, sighing.

“Many years ago, there was a beautiful princess who didn’t need to be rescued at all, but I needed to impress her. So, I slayed a rancor to win her heart. That princess is--”

“Not the story you tell Ben about how we met,” Leia says, shoving him. He is quick to bundle her up in his arms again. “The real one, please.”

Han scrunches his face and Leia smoothes her thumb over his scar. He bends down and kisses her finger and sighs, giving up.

“Fine.” He presses his forehead to hers. “Right after Chewie and I won the Falcon, we were working on her before our first run. I grabbed a new hydrospanner and underneath it was a Spice Spider.”

Leia snorted.

“Okay, you know what, never mind.”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Leia says, laughing. “Keep going, my brave smuggler.”

Han tries to turn away from her but she holds on tight. They roll and she’s on top of him.

“I ran and tripped, busting my face on the top of the ship,” he says quickly, turning his face away from her.

Leia’s really trying not to laugh, and she knows Han is afraid of Spice Spiders, but she can’t stop. He keeps pushing her away, trying to hide his own smile, but Leia kisses him between giggles, pushing her lips against any skin she can reach.

“You’re so brave,” she says and his pushes turn into tickles. She laughs. “Save me, Han Solo!” she mocks.

Leia tries to squirm away, but Han has good traction now. She pushes his hands but he’s stronger and she laughs, enjoying the rumble in her chest.

Then there’s a high pitched scream and they both stop, their eyes immediately locking. Han scrambles out of bed, throwing on a pair of pants and he’s out the door in a second. Leia gets up and hurries to put on her own clothes. She does, but before she can leave, Han is walking back into the room with Ben gripping his waist as they walk.

Leia kneels down to look at Ben. His eyes are dark and harsh when they look at her. She stiffens, not touching him. Ben slowly blinks and his eyes clear and immediately well with tears. He falls into her and Leia hugs him tight, Han falling next to them and wrapping them both up in a hug.

“It’s okay,” Leia says, squeezing. “You’re safe now. I’m here. Dad’s here.” Leia takes his face in her hands and kisses his forehead. “Remember? Dad beat that rancor and he can beat any monster, he’s the bravest man in the galaxy. Just like you.”

Ben nods and hugs her again. Leia looks at her husband, the father of her child. Hiis hand is in Ben’s hair, his eyes on Leia. He swallows, eyes sad and wide with worry, his voice shaking as he speaks.

“That’s right, kid,” Han says, then clears his throat. “I’ll protect you from anything.”


	15. Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: i saw you said your favorite position was from behind? han x leia??????? // you know how Han and Leia probably fought all the time because they're both stubborn assholes? Can I PROMPT you to do the aftermath of one of their fights and how they make up. // Could you do another one with Leia pregnant, maybe with more overprotective Han telling her to cut back on work and rest more, because it's close to her due date? I love your work! Xx
> 
> (Combining three prompts this time, enjoy!)

Han growls, a really low and harsh sound that is both frustrated and desperate.

“And now we’re fighting,” he says, throwing his arms up. “This is not what I want for you either.”

“Of course we’re fighting,” Leia says, turning back to the mirror so she can catch the pins in her hair. She tugs one out and throws it onto the counter. “You’re being an ass.”

“I’m being an ass? You’re being stubborn and… stupid!”

Leia rolls her eyes, popping her hip in exasperation as she pulls out more pins. Her hair falls slowly in small chunks as she goes. It’s getting long, almost too long. She’s been thinking about cutting it but Han loves it long. That shouldn’t matter but of course it does.

“I already cut back, Han, I don’t know what more you want from me.”

“Cut back more. You’re pregnant for fuck’s sake.” 

He mumbles the last of his words. He mumbles when he’s mad, as if it will soften the blow when he’s being this way. It doesn’t help, the mumbling only makes her angrier.

“I’m fine, our son is fine, so you can quit it with the protective crap.” Leia spins around, her hair unfinished. “I don’t need your protection, I can take care of myself.”

Han rubs his face, hard, the skin red when he moves on to his hair, leaving his mop wild. He is tense, frustrated, but not angry. There’s something new that mixes with his eyes. Failure, maybe.

“Fine. Fine.” Han puts his hands up and they fall down immediately, a loud slap echoing in their room as they hit his thighs. He leans forward, pointing at her. “Run yourself into the ground, kill yourself for all I care.” He turns around to leave but stops and spins back to her. “That’s my son, too, damnit, and I understand that I have no control over you, princess, but that kid’s mine. He’s my family.”

“Oh and I’m not?” Leia spits out.

“You are but you sure ain’t acting like you want to be.”

He leaves. He leaves so quickly she doesn’t even realize it until long after. She’s breathing hard and her throat is constricting like when she’s about to cry but she doesn’t let herself. She knows when she’s had enough. She’s never reached that point, but she knows her body and her growing son more than Han does. She knows she’s okay. This is all because she forgot to eat lunch and dinner today, but this is the only time it’s happened. Today was busy, today was hectic and there were more deaths than she’d like, he needs to give her a break.

Some things are bigger than her health or their small, insignificant family. 

Leia groans, stomping to the mirror to finish her hair. Her eyes sting.

“The little piece of crap… rancor.” She shuts her eyes and shakes her head. “So much easier before,” she mumbles. Great, now he’s turned her into a mumbler. “Before…”

Leia stomps her feet as if it will prevent the tears that threaten to spill. She doesn’t want to cry over him, she’s never wanted to cry over him, not again. The hormones make her weepy, she cried when she lost one of her hair ribbons the other night, she cried when Chewie gave her a hug this morning. She’s nothing but tears and a temper that could melt Corellian metal now that she’s pregnant. Sometimes the tears and the anger coexist, like now, the anger rising up into her chest and into her throat, burning her insides and making her cry. 

Now she’s mad that she’s crying.

“Little wampa,” Leia whispers, the anger drifting away slightly at the nickname Han invented for their unborn son. She puts both hands over her large stomach. When did it get so big? “You made your mother into a mess.”

Leia sniffs and shuffles over to the bed, sitting down. It takes so long to shift down to the low bed now. Has it always been this hard? No, surely not, but -- woah -- her center of balance is all off now and her legs are weak. Her butt lands onto the mattress with a small bounce and she can’t control her upper body as she flops backward. She sighs, shifting until she’s on her side, facing away from the door. She doesn’t want to stare at it and wait for him to come back, she doesn't want to want him back. 

Leia squeezes her eyes shut and holds onto her stomach, onto her baby boy who is part of her, part of Han, and who is changing her life so much with every breath. She’s not ready for it, not at all.

She wakes up slowly to a shift in the bed. It’s dark and she has a blanket over her now and there’s the familiar warmth of Han’s body as he snuggles up behind her. Leia stiffens and tries to will herself to move away from him but the heat that always radiates off his body feels good on her sore back. Han’s hand is slow, gliding up her side, along her arm, back down to her hip. He moves his fingers over her belly, pressing two to fingers on her skin for a beat before continuing his path so he can hold her as best he can. His chest presses into her back, his dick to her ass, legs right up against hers. 

He alway did fit there so well, whether they were fighting or not, he always fit.

Han kisses her head, squeezing her. Leia feigns being asleep for as long as she can, but soon Han’s hands are moving again, rubbing up her sides, over hips, stomach, and breasts. There’s nothing sexual about his touch, but his fingers spark something along her skin anyway. Her breathing speeds and Han must notice the way her hips move back to press her ass into him.

He hums and kisses her hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Han always apologizes first, even when he’s in the wrong. Leia likes to think he always is, but that’s not true. “You are my family, you are my everything.”

Leia sighs and grabs his hand, linking their fingers and placing them on her belly. 

“I want to be your family,” Leia says. “I’m sorry, Han, I--”

“No, no, you were right, you would know if you needed to cut back.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Leia says. “Perhaps food is important.” 

She closes her eyes as Han’s lips move to her shoulder. His teeth graze her skin as he chuckles. It’s a low chuckle, one more in his chest than out in the air, and it vibrates nicely along her back. She pushes her ass back again.

“Maybe I’ll get 3PO to remind you to eat every four hours.”

“No, please, anything but that.”

This time he laughs louder and the ease trickles back into her skin, it evaporates into the air around the room and it’s like she can breathe a little easier. She doesn’t know how they keep doing this, how these moments, the reconnecting ones, keep them together through all the fighting and the bickering and the head and heartaches they put themselves through.

It is, though, it keeps them from ever being truly apart. 

Han lifts up Leia’s nightgown and pulls down her underwear, gripping and rubbing his hands over her ass. He groans and hums as his fingers dig into her flesh. She’s filled out a bit since growing with the baby, but if Han has a problem with it, he hasn’t shown it. Actually, since becoming pregnant, her backside has been his new favorite piece of her.

“I love you,” he says, sliding down her body. 

Once his mouth reaches the exposed skin of her back, he kisses her spine, down until he’s kissing her ass and the back of her legs. He lifts her leg and kisses between her legs, making her yelp, but he only moves back up into his perfect position pressing into her back. This time his pants are gone.

Leia pushes her ass back and Han thrusts forward, his dick hard on her ass, slipping between her legs as they keep adjusting and grinding against each other. Han helps pull her leg up over his hip and guides himself toward her entrance. They grind against each other, teasing and enjoying the friction, before finally connecting just right.

Han pushes in and Leia gasps. They still, Han’s fingers digging into her hip and ass. Even with the extra weight, Han’s hands are still so big on her. Leia moves first, finally adjusting to the stretch of him, and Han responds with his own matching thrusts and hissing her name. His lips are next to her ear, slipping on her earlobe and along her neck as he thrusts, curses and breaths trickling into her hair. Leia screams into her pillow when Han moves down a little lower, adjusting so he hits her deeper, against that spot that always makes her start to see the faraway galaxies and make her blood turn to fire. 

He fucks her like this, sweet words mixing with filthy praise that sounds somehow earnest and innocent as they fall out of his mouth. Like how good she feels is inexplicable and unworthy, how beautiful she is, is awe inspiring. She digs her fingers into the sheets and tries to angle him even deeper, as if there is any possible way to make them converge, lock together any tighter.

Han kisses between her shoulders and pulls out, making both of them groan. He taps her hips and whispers, “Come on, princess,” as he helps move her so she’s on her hands and knees. He bends over her, kissing her spine three times before sitting up, his dick pressing against her ass. He groans, massaging her rear again and Leai shakes her head, giggling. 

“You are beautiful, your highness,” Han growls and smacks one cheek lightly.

Leia laughs outright but still wiggles her butt, pushing it closer to him as if to tell him to hurry along. He gets the message, lining himself up with her and pushing.

She holds onto the pillows beneath her palms and moans. Yes, this is what she wanted, this is exactly it. She tells him so, urges him to move, to get deeper, harder, faster. Each demand is met with a whimper or a groan and Leia stretches her head up to the ceiling, smiling. Yes, yes, _yes_. 

Han’s hands are frantic, not as perfect and rhythmic as his hips. He’s touching her hips, palming her ass, sliding along her back, pulling her hair. They can’t stay in one place too long before getting hungry for a different area and it makes Leia lost in her head. She searches the stars behind her eyelids as he keeps ramming into her, deeper and more perfect with each thrust. 

“Han,” Leia moans and she growls, her voice deeper now. “Harder.”

His hands snap to her hips, gripping as best they can on her bigger waistline and fucks her harder, just as she wants, but so much better. Leia angles her hips just right and squeezes on his dick. He moans and she closes her eyes, engulfed in the sensations of his dick, in the depth of him, how he rubs along every piece of her. It’s overwhelming, it’s too much, and yet she can’t back away, she can’t stop imagining him behind her, thrusting and watching his dick enter her over and over again. Han’s eyes are always focused when they have sex or when her mouth is on his dick, or his fingers making her come undone. He loves to watch, and she adores it.

Leia looks back at him and sure enough, he’s focused on her body as it rocks, eyes switching between hers and where they are joined. One hand moves to an ass cheek and he grips, eyes rolling back before focusing on her body again. He moves faster, a little less rhythmic, and Leia finds herself slowly climbing. She moves her hips up just enough and -- _yes_ \-- he’s there, over and over again, mixing with the sound of skin against skin and his moans, his bruising fingers, Leia reaches the tipping point and falls over. 

She screams and tries so hard to keep herself upright as her orgasm rolls through her. Han thrusts a few more times before he explodes, shaking and whimpering as he tries to hold onto her, help support her newly weakened and bigger body. They’re both still coming down and shaking as he guides her to her side and snuggles in behind her, dick slick against the back of her thigh. 

Han kisses her hair and her neck and pushes himself up with shaking arms so he can pull her chin toward him and kiss her lips. He keeps giving her small, wet kisses, nipping at her bottom lip before he falls back behind her, smoothing her nightgown back down.

“You could cut back, though,” Han says, putting a hand over her breast.

Leia laughs, lazily whacking his leg behind her. 

“You’re impossible.”

“You are, too,” he says, squeezing her breast and kissing her neck.

They are, they are both incredibly impossible, but somehow their love, their little family, isn’t.


	16. Helping and Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Han and Leia + modern college AU "I'm too short to reach the book on the high shelf but I'm too stubborn to find a ladder and you saw me taking a running leap before offering to grab it"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern day college AU, just as the prompt suggests.

The library is quiet, but it has that panicked, stressed feeling in the air that is seeping into Han’s skin and causing his blood pressure to spike. He isn’t that nervous about his finals, but everyone else is on edge. There’s cups of coffee and stacked textbooks, the furious sounds of keyboard clicking, and the whispered swearing and self deprecating monologues. Sometimes, he swears he hears people crying.

Han’s sticking to his tried and true method of studing: looking through his notes and reareading the highlighted sections of his textbook, pencil between his fingers. He forgot his headphones in his dorm room, now forced to listen to the deterioration of the student body as they suffer within the walls of the campus library.

The tables were full when he got there, so he sits with his back pressed against a shelf of books, rain hitting the window above. His legs are stretched out in front of him and his textbooks sit in a nice pile to his right, notebooks to his left, bag wide open in the middle of the walkway. He worked his ass off to go here, to get the money to attend college, buy books, and have food, so Han reserves every piece of the campus as his own personal living area. The library is not excluded.

There is a soft whack and a frustrated groan to his right. He whips his head up to find the aisle empty. The shelves aren’t moving, nothing has fallen. Han shakes his head. Maybe a freshman died in the back corner from stress and an existential crisis. 

Before Han looks back to his work, there’s a flash of jeans and brown hair running across the aisle and leaping up to the bookshelf. Han blinks, unbelieving, until he sees a girl land on the ground, stomping her foot and furiously running her hands over her hair.

She evaluates the books, presumably the one she needs on the top shelf, while catching her breath. Her face, that Han sees in profile, scrunches in concentration, fingers rubbing along the side of her neck. She turns and disappears down the aisle and a moment later, there’s a soft thumping of her running and the blur goes by again. She leaps for the book and misses, hissing, “Fuck!” under her breath.

Han laughs, covers it with a cough and turns back to his textbook before she can catch him watching. When he looks again, she’s gone. She returns quickly, emerging from the shelves and leaping to great heights again, but not high enough.

She lands and her fists clench into cute fists. He’s never seen cute fists in his life, but hers, he’s certain, are quite cute. As her current mission would suggest, she’s also tiny. Her blue jeans are tight and sweatshirt baggy, worn Chuck Taylors on her feet, and her hair is up in a messy bun, brown hair spilling out of it.

The girl jumps a few times in place, seeing how high she can reach. Then, she puts a toe onto a lower shelf, measuring her weight against the ledge, moving books to accommodate her foot. 

Han has to admire her effort and level of commitment. 

She falls off the shelf, something in the shift of weight on the wood not agreeing with her. She stumbles and whispers to herself, nodding a lot and rolling her eyes, hands flailing up and down. Han laughs again, biting his lip to keep from being too loud. He shakes his head, putting his notebook aside, dropping his pencil on top of it, and stands.

The girl notices him approaching and stops whispering to herself. Han leans against the books and crosses his arm with a tilt of his head.

“Can I help you get something?” Han asks.

Her eyes are big and brown, the color of his morning coffee. She looks him up and down, the frustrated clench to her jaw only giving way to another type of irritation.

“I’m fine,” she says.

Han squints his gaze but keeps his smile crooked and light.

“You’re a political science major, huh? Or business maybe?”

She looks around her, as if trying to tell the books, “Can you believe this guy?”

“No? Nursing?” Han guesses.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but you were right the first time. And also Art History.”

“Ah,” Han says, turning and pointing to the top shelf. “That explains the pole vaulting. Big Georgia O’Keefe paper you gotta finish?”

“Yes,” she says, propping her hands on her hips.

“Not that you asked,” Han says, reaching up and grabbing a book off the shelf. He holds it out to her, questioning if it’s the one she wants. She shakes her head. “But, I’m majoring in astrophysics.”

The girl looks him up and down with an unbelieving look. Han’s chest burns. He could get used to her eyes on him, even if it is with looks like this, somewhere between doubt and annoyance.

“Sure,” she says.

Han puts the book back on the shelf and grabs the next one, holding it out to her.

“It’s true, sweetheart. I graduate this year and everything; I’m even going to wear the dumb hat.”

She snatches the book. “Good for you.”

“Thank you.”

She hugs the book to her chest and studies him some more. She doesn’t believe him, that much is clear, but he’s not lying. He thinks about offering to show her his textbooks and his barely passing grades, but he starts off a little more simply.

“I’m Han.”

Her brown eyes soften a bit and she takes a step back, her lips actually lifting a little at the corners. 

“Nice meeting you, Han.”

“No, no,” Han says, taking a step toward her, “this is the part where you say your name.”

She full on smiles now, teeth and everything, looking down. 

“Leia,” she says.

“Leia,” Han whispers. She’s still walking away but she doesn’t seem to mind him following her. “Are there any other tall shelves I can help you reach?”

Leia rolls her eyes but nods, turning so she can walk forward. Han hurries to catch up to her and follows her around the library. They whisper about classes and roommates as Han plucks books off of shelves, even the ones that aren’t too high.

They study in Han’s lived in space of the library, remembering, studying, learning. He learns she’s a sophomore who takes way too many classes each semester, that she’s trying to figure out how to be a senator and an art history teacher at the same time, and that she’s supposed to wear glasses when she reads, but she never does.

Han also learns that she tastes like sweet mint and that the soft, thick strands of her long brown hair feel perfect between his fingers.


	17. Get Your Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: i really liked your "han getting jealous" fic, so how about leia getting jealous??? || Empire Strikes Back era canon divergence

Leia is cold, but what else is new? She’s always cold on this ridiculous ice planet.

What is new, however, is how much she keeps looking at Han. No, no, that isn’t new either, unfortunately. She’s always looking at Han no matter how much she tells herself she shouldn’t. She practically has pep talks with herself in the mirror as she does her hair each morning, willing herself to stop being so stupid.

_Don’t look at Han too much today, Leia._

_Hey, how about don’t start an argument with Han today?_

_Leia, you are better than telling Han he needs to shave just to get him to wink at you._

_Stop looking at Han!_

The phrases go on, some not so princess-like. Despite all her father’s wishes, she is hardly princess-like. 

For example, right now, standing in the hangar, she’s rather livid. Her father used to tell her to always control her temper, never get so hot headed like she’s so prone to do.

“Always save face, Leia. Show them you’re thinking, not that you’re feeling,” he’d say as she threw rocks into the lake near the palace. 

“I’m thinking they’re all stupid,” she’d snap back and her father would laugh.

She’s having similar feelings now. Mostly about how stupid Han is as he leans against the supports beneath the Falcon, his hands covered in smears of grease as he holds a dirty rag. From across the hangar, Leia can see his fingers move over the material as he talks, eyes sparkling and mouth tilted. It makes her sick and furious.

Especially when he leans forward and winks and it’s not at her.

There’s a girl, a woman, who landed with a freight of supplies and food this morning. She’s tall, much taller than Leia, with short, curly red hair that is bright as sunsets on Alderaan. Her skin is darker than Leia’s, a nice caramel color, and her eyes are bright blue and when she smiles, she’s missing a tooth toward the side of her mouth and instead of that being to her disadvantage, it makes her look beautiful. It makes no sense.

Just like Han not taking his attention away from this woman since he saw her this morning. Leia was walking with a crew, briefing them on their mission, when she saw the woman approach Han, putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning forward curiously. When he saw her, his face washed over with recognition and then a dumb smile spread across his face and they embraced like old friends. 

Now there’s just so much touching. Touching and leaning against each other and laughing. Doesn’t she know Han really isn’t that funny? Doesn’t she know he’s a huge pain the ass? That he makes her life more difficult and he thinks he’s hot shit even though he’s tripped over wrenches more times than Leia can count?

Leai blinks with the sound of laughter. Sunset Hair is laughing, her head flying back as she does. Han nods and then tilts his head with some kind of conceited, self satisfied grin as she moves forward and touches his chest, letting her hand linger and slide down his torso. 

Doesn’t this woman know that she can’t touch him like that?

In fact, no one can. Leia doesn’t touch Han like that or anything, she mostly shoves him out of her way or punches him in the arm, or kicks his foot. However, if anyone is going to touch Han Solo like that, delicate and soft and possessive, it will be her.

Leia doesn’t remember deciding to move, but she does, practically stomping across the hangar, toward Han, toward Sunset Hair. She knows she’s grinding her teeth and scowling, something her mom would quickly tell her to quit doing, but she doesn’t care. 

Han sees her first, and Leia is sad to see that he doesn’t look afraid, because she imagines fire is surrounding her in roaring flames of anger. 

“Leia,” Han says as she stops between them. “This is Nevee. Nevee, this is Leia.”

“Nice to meet you--”

“This one’s mine,” Leia says.

Nevee’s lips part and Han crosses his arms.

“Excuse me?” Nevee asks, her eyes sharpening.

“I said this one is mine,” Leia repeats. “Get your own pain in the ass.”

“I wasn’t aware he was spoken for,” Nevee says. Her voice almost has a laugh to it. 

Han rubs his jaw, then slides his hand to the back of his neck. Leia looks at him, notices the red color that’s appeared in his neck, and turns back to Nevee.

“He is, so back off.” 

Nevee actually laughs now, putting her hands up in surrender. Leia catches Han’s confused stare one more time before grabbing his arm. 

“Fly safe, Nevee,” Han says as Leia pulls him away.

“See you later, Han.”

Leia doesn’t look back to see if Nevee is watching them, following them, or smiling at Han with her imperfect, beautiful smile and twinkling eyes. 

“You really got it for me, huh Princess?”

“Shut up,” Leia snaps.

Leia drags him into a short corridor lined with snow, ice, and steel that leads to a few temporary barracks for travelers. It’s empty, a soft blue tinted light illuminating the floor and dotting the walls in sporadic bulbs.

Leia pushes Han into the wall and his eyes go wide before he settles into his usual cocky, infuriating smirk.

“I’m yours?” he says, lifting his eyebrows.

“Shut up.”

“I like when you get all riled up, especially about me. That’s--”

Leia pushes two hands onto his chest and presses up on her tiptoes so she can kiss him. She doesn’t mean to kiss him necessarily, but it seemed like a good way to get him to shut up. It is a good way, as it turns out, a really good way. His lips are warm and he tastes like those cinnamon candies that are always in the Falcon and his hands are dirty but she doesn’t care as they slide along her neck and into her hair. He pulls her closer and she sinks into him, letting his lips push hers apart and send electricity through her veins.

Han pulls away but kisses her a few times with short, sweet pecks before finally letting her go. Leia is dizzy, sure Hoth has spun out of orbit and she’s now in a new gravitational pull by the way her stomach feels and her vision blurs. 

There’s a steady hand on her waist to keep her upright and Han brings her in again, pressing his forehead against hers.

“I like being your pain in the ass,” he says.

Leia sighs, rolling her eyes, her entire being clicking back into place. She pushes Han into the wall again and takes a step back.

“Hands to yourself, moon jockey.”

Han crosses his arms and leans back, satisfied. Leia growls and stomps off toward the hangar so she can get back to the control room. She touches her still tingling lips as she walks through the entryway, lets her tongue taste the cinnamon that’s left behind. 

In the reflection of the track-computer, Leia sees a smear of grease on her jaw and another on her neck. From Han’s hands. Heat travels throughout her body, roaring in her cheeks. She starts rubbing at her skin, a smile forming on her lips that she desperately tries to bite away.

“Shit,” she whispers.

Fine, he’s her pain in the ass, but she’s not happy about it. Not at all.


	18. Drunk in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: sappy!drunk! Han

“I have to debrief with three squads, check on the civilian database, and--”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.”

Leia rolls her eyes for the upteenth time and she whips around. There are clumps of other Rebelion personnel coming and going by them, some standing in small groups, paired off and talking quietly. There’s a laugh booming far away. They’ve been on Coruscant for a couple weeks, aiding the Senate with the fall of the Empire and strategizing next steps. Leia hasn’t even looked in a mirror in days. Taking down the Empire was a lot of work, but the aftermath is just as taxing, if not moreso. 

“Han--”

“No, I got it, princess.” Han puts his hands up. “I hear you loud and clear.” He points at her, leaning down. “You can find me when you’re free.”

Leia growls, throwing her hands up in frustration as Han spins and walks away.

“I love you,” Leia shouts, annoyed.

Han turns his head back and barks, “Yeah, I love you, too!”

Leia goes the opposite way she was going to avoid running into him again and skips number 3 on her to do list and goes down to number 7 and continues her day. There’s a prickling heat on the back of her neck as she talks to Senators, answers concerns from squad leaders and civilians. She takes a ride through the city with patrol to see how the fall has taken to certain neighborhoods. 

The prickling never goes away, the heat and twist in her stomach is still there. It flickers out when she’s writing messages and nodding during a meeting, but it flares up again during the in between. Han’s aggravated voice echoes in her ears, sometimes she sees his scrunched face, that ridiculous way he kind of smiles when he’s mad, and a hole starts to form somewhere in her chest.

Her feet hurt and she has a headache by the time she gets back to her temporary apartment in the city. She had a small studio before… everything, but it was lost long ago, the month to month agreement gone completely after she didn’t appear back in the city for years. Like all her homes since, and probably all of them from now on, it’s nothing like her real home on Alderaan. 

Leia rolls her shoulders and presses her fingers into her eyelids, trying to relieve the pressure there. She walks into the galley kitchen and opens a cupboard, as if expecting food to be there. There isn’t. 

A knock on the front door startles her. Leia walks to the door, patting down her hair with one hand while opening the door with the other.

Chewie and Han are there on the other side. Han’s hardly there, really, leaning against the door frame, eyes half closed and hair a mess. His vest is gone and almost all his shirt’s buttons are undone. She raises her eyebrows, unable to form a question or concern for what is going on in front of her.

Chewie growls low and soft and then shoves Han forward. 

“What bar?” Leia asks.

Chewie replies, Han stumbling into the apartment.

“Thank you, Chewie. Are you sure you’re okay to go home?”

Chewie nods along with his assurance. She knows he’s just in another apartment in the building, but the way Han stumbles around the apartment, saying half sentences that are slurred through his lips, gives her pause about the Wookie’s ability to get home safely. However, when she watches Chewie walk down the hallway, he doesn’t sway at all. She vaguely remembers Han talking about how well Chewie handles his liquor. 

Unlike Han.

Leia locks the door and watches Han walk around the apartment. His feet are heavy and clumsy, but his body follows through with each stumble in an odd, graceful way. She wonders if his body is just used to finding balance and avoiding collisions, like his brain has been wired to pilot and it’s now translating to his own body instead of a ship. Han puts up a hand, putting two fingers in the air and walks into the bathroom, falling into the door as he closes it behind him.

Leia sighs and goes into the kitchen and pours a glass of water and places it onto the side table next to the couch just as Han opens the bathroom door. He walks out, trying to clasp his pants, his eyes a little harder, mouth set firmer than before, as if relieving himself has cleared his mind and he’s now remembering that he’s angry. 

At her, probably. Great.

“Said 17 parsecs,” Han mumbles. He points at her and then outside the window where speeders zoom by. “Incorrect!”

Leia tilts her head. Maybe he’s not mad at her anymore.

“He didn’t even know who I am!” Han says. “Or her.” It takes Leia a long time to realize “her” is the Falcon. “I’m strong, too.”

“Sure,” Leia says. She’s trying not to laugh at him.

“Strong -- fast -- s’nobody as fast as her _or_ me.” Han flattens his hand against his chest, echoing a loud thump. He hiccups, looking around the apartment. “Chewie? Chewie told ‘em.”

“I’m sure he did.”

“Not e’rrybody understands Chewie. You do.” 

Han points at her, and the flames dissipate behind his eyes. His shoulders fall and his head tilts, his entire face softening. He looks boyish as he takes her in; hair disheveled and that smirk somehow lazier than ever on his lips.

He slowly blinks and moves toward her. She notices his shirt is all the way unbuttoned now and he never finished fastening his pants. They lay low on his hips as he walks. Leia melts at the sight of him, the annoyance and headache starting to fade and something much lighter and nicer grows inside her instead.

“My princess,” Han slurs and then hums a tune she’s never heard before. Despite herself, her cheeks warm. “You. Are. Little.” 

Leia flicks her eyes to the ceiling just as Han reaches her. He slides his hands over her stomach, around her waist, to her back. He pulls her in and they sway together as his balance wavers. He’s smiling as he nestles his face in her hair and down to her neck. His scruffy jaw scratches her skin and it contrasts nicely with his soft lips as he kisses the skin there. He’s only there for a moment, though, his face going down toward her breasts, pressing his nose between them over her shirt.

She lets out a snort and he rubs his face into her chest, losing his battle with balance and they both crumple to the floor in a tangle of limbs and giggles. Leia shouts his name through the laughter, but Han only adjusts them so he can keep his face firmly in her chest. His hands are rough as he pulls open her shirt, innocently seeking more and more skin. He doesn’t kiss or bite at her breasts, just simply nestles himself in there like a lost boy.

“I love you.” Han’s voice is muffled against her chest.

Leia leans back against the couch and slides her fingers through his hair over and over, enjoying the way it feels between her fingers. She’s calm, almost clear headed. It’s a new sensation, one that Han’s only been able to bring out in her since… childhood, possibly. 

Han growls and moans, twisting his neck so her fingers can get new angles through his hair, but keep his face in her breasts. 

“My princess,” Han says. “You saved me.”

Leia’s whole body is warm now, and she wishes she could turn it off, cool herself down. 

“Luke says you were not gonna love me -- he’ssss right but you do.” Leia shakes her head, closing her eyes. His breath is warm against her, his voice sending soft vibrations through her body. “Princess, princess,” he says in a lazy, sing-song voice. “Save me princess.”

She shivers as his teeth graze her skin. It’s an accident, but his closeness is getting to her anyway, despite the drunken, sappy nonsense spilling out of his mouth. Every now and then, he kisses her breast, or swipes his tongue against her flesh, each time more sloppy than the last. It still feels good, mixed with the warm buzz of his voice, she lets her back arch into his touch, sighs at the contact of his lips.

“I love you Leia Organa,” Han says, the last A of her name going on for too long. 

He kisses a breast, the other breast, between them, then his nose trails down her stomach and he sinks his teeth into the skin above the waistband of her pants. It’s almost too hard, but it’s a nice burn and it’s hard to think about how he’s almost tearing skin when between bites he’s saying things like, “I wanna marry you,” and “You’re my whole galaxy.”

Han growls, unable to get her pants undone. She laughs and Han looks at her, eyes sad and bottom lip out in a ridiculous pout. He kisses over the red marks his teeth have left and then comes back up her torso, nestling into her breasts again.

“Like it here,” he sighs.

Their bodies are a tangled mess, half laying, half sitting on the floor, her hands in his hair, his on her hips as he nestles his nose between her breasts. He keeps humming and mumbling things about her, how much he loves her, how fast the Falcon is, something about Chewie throwing a guy through a window. Her eyelids turn heavy even though she’s so uncomfortable and Han is heavy on top of her. She’s lost in the loving mumbling like poetry, like a lullaby.

“Princess?” Han asks, Leia realizes, for the third time.

“Hm?”

Her eyes are closed fully now, unable to open, her entire body and mind so close to sleep.

“You love me,” he says, voice slurred and sleepy.

Leia’s lips twitch but she can hardly find the energy to smile, although her body feels like the stars are living inside it.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she whispers, “I do.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I love your fics! Han/Leia after prom! || Contemporary High School AU

This is it. This is all he had to offer her.

While everyone else is off taking their dates to hotel rooms or off to that after party Lando is throwing at his house, Han takes his date back to his bedroom.

Leia’s hand reaches out, grasping his on the stick shift. Han’s muscles thaw out a bit, the tension releasing in his neck, hand turning so their fingers can lace together. He sneaks a glance down at their joined hands, Leia’s shiny, red thumbnail moving against the top of his hand. He squeezes and she squeezes back as he pulls into his driveway.

“Well,” Han says, letting out a breath, “here we are. Hotel Solo.”

“Charming!”

Han groans. “Sorry, Princess.”

She smacks his arm, but Han gets out first, stomping toward the front door and swinging it open as Leia follows him, shouting his name and other fun expletives. He wants to tell her to stop, to turn around, maybe if she just takes the Falcon, she can get to Lando’s party and talk to one of those guys on the lacrosse team or something. someone of her caliber. Someone who could afford to take her to a nice hotel room instead of to his own damn bedroom that usually smells like Chewy’s body odor and grease.

Han yanks open his door and stops, dead in his tracks, because he forgot.

“You are such a weak, pin-headed–”

Leia’s voice stops as her chest collides with his back. When she speaks again, it’s soft and beautiful, just like it was when they were slow dancing and his shoes were uncomfortable but she fit so nicely in his arms.

“Han.”

She steps past him and enters his room. His dumb, old room that he’s had her in so many times before, where she’s helped him with essays and he went through her French flashcards with her, where he took off her shirt and she crossed her arms over her chest while her cheeks turned bright pink and he kissed every inch of her torso. Where she accidentally spent the night last summer and he helped her jump out of the window and run home with as the sun came up.

But this isn’t quite Han’s bedroom anymore. There are twinkling lights everywhere, Chewie must have scrounged around his garage and found boxes and boxes of them. It smells nice, like artificial roses but not too nauseating and so much better than the usual funk in here. The fake rose petals are spread out on the bed just like he left them. There are little streamers hanging limply from his Snatch poster.

More than any of that stuff, though, is Leia. She looks beautiful among the twinkling lights, her hair still put up in loose curls, and the diamonds in her ears and around her neck sparkling with the new glow. Her back is bare, and the light pink fabric is still clinging perfectly along her body.

Leia turns around in the middle of his room, light bouncing off of her bare shoulders and her cheeks, her eyes and her hair. She’s beaming, glowing, absolutely radiant. Her lips are pink and tilted up, and her smile is big, eyes wide with surprise.

“Han.”

Her voice is a little shakier now, but louder. She sucks in her bottom lip and Han is envious of her, it’s only been maybe ten minutes since he’s kissed her lips, but that’s too fucking long.

Han takes a step toward her, and Leia tilts her head, blinking. He slips his fingers along her hip and grips the dress, pulling until she’s flush against him. She looks up at him and Han brushes his lips against her nose.

“I love you so much, you stupid jerk,” Leia says, sliding her hands up his chest, gripping the lapels of his jacket. “Look what you did for me.”

Leia pulls and kisses him.

“Well, I couldn’t let you pay for a hotel room.”

Leia laughs, kisses him again.

“Your penis won’t shrink if I pay for things.”

“You can’t prove that,” Han points out and Leia laughs again, rolling her eyes.

“I like this better anyway.”

She pulls him down for another kiss, but this time, their lips don’t part. He let’s her breath be his oxygen and he watches the lights warm her skin as he takes off her dress, and when she falls back on his bed (on plastic petals and fresh sheets that smell like wildflowers), he actually can’t believe his luck.

That a girl who wears diamonds, the valedictorian, the girl going to NYU in the fall, the girl who calls him an asshole and then shoves him into a wall and kisses him breathless, the girl he loves with all of his heart, is his.

“I love you,” he says, laying over her, sliding his tongue over her throat.

She sighs and tangles her fingers in his hair.

“I know.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Could you please continue the [Han and Leia after prom one?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5548964/chapters/14437105) || Contemperary High School AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got many requests for this one! This fic starts right where the last one leaves off! Enjoy. <3

She tastes like salt and smells like brown sugar and Han can’t get enough of either. He keeps his lips on her neck, moving from beneath her ear, over her throat, to the other side. He nips at the skin when she sighs and sucks when her fingers pull his hair. His name spills from her mouth, arching in a high plea when he bites too hard. He smiles then, letting his teeth touch the red skin, kissing the forming bruise.

Han finally pulls back and leans his forehead against hers as she unbuttons his shirt and he helps her shrug it off when she’s done. Her hands roam all over his torso, fingertips digging beneath the waistband of his pants, of his boxers, teasing the sensitive skin. This makes his hips buck into hers and she responds perfectly, because this is how they work. Actions and reactions. 

Han teases her in the back of chemistry, she writes “fuck off” on her notebook paper and shows him from over her shoulder without turning around. Han pulls on her belt loop to bring her closer at a party, and she slugs him in the face. Leia pushes him into a wall at school, and Han asks her to kiss him. Han sits down with her at the coffee shop as she does homework, and Leia doesn’t tell him to leave. Leia asks for a ride home, Han kisses her over the gearshift. Han asks to be her boyfriend and Leia doesn’t say no. Leia tells Han to take her to prom, Han buys a tie that matches her dress.

Leia lets him into her life, and Han falls stupidly in love with her.

His hips keep moving, grinding into her, enjoying the soft friction. Their kisses grow deeper, sloppier, but they electrify every inch of him. His hands are in her hair, on her chest, gripping her hips. He likes the trail of her collarbone, follows it with his thumb before sliding up to her chin and pulling her mouth open even wider as if he can’t quite get enough.

Leia shoves Han so he sits up enough for her to reach behind her back and unsnap her bra. Han watches her fuss with it and toss it across the room. This is not his first time seeing breasts, not even his first time seeing Leia’s, but the buzz of prom and the soft glow from the Christmas lights brings out something new in the sight.

Leia sighs as Han’s hands move over each breast. Her breath hitches when his thumb grazes a nipple and she hisses when he squeezes. He leans forward, bracing himself with one hand, keeping the other on her skin. He kisses her, slower this time, their hips still moving, small moans escaping from their throats.

They roll onto their sides and Leia uses this opportunity to start to undo his pants. Her fingers are grazing him through the material and it’s making him dizzy. She gets his pants undone and tries to tug at them, but it’s awkward at the angle so she pulls away, frustrated.

“Pants off,” she says between breaths. 

Suddenly, everything catches up to him.

“Wait -- right now?”

Leia rolls her eyes. “Yes, now.”

“Are you sure?”

Leia nods, sitting up. Her hair's a mess, the little clip that was in her hair, gone. Her cheeks are a really cute pink color and her lips are swollen and wet. He can see the hickeys already forming on her neck. 

Han scrambles off the bed and stands, his pants falling off his hips. Leia licks her lips and Han almost needs to sit down at the sight of her there, on the bed, in front of him, looking at him like a woman starved. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

He watches her sit up straighter, tilting her chin in determination, and she yanks his underwear down.

This is new, uncharted territory for them, and Han is terrified. 

He’s been with girls before, he’s had sex, but not with Leia. With Leia, he vowed to take his time. She didn’t seem in too much of a rush either, both of them enjoying dry humping in the Falcon. 

Leia’s eyes grow a little, staring at his dick for a few beats before her gaze flicks up to his face again. For all Han knows, everything is pretty normal down there, maybe great, but Leia’s face shows nothing. Not approval, but at least she’s not disgusted.

She stands and hooks her fingers into the sides of her panties and slides them down her legs and kicks them away in determined finality. She stands there, facing him, hands on her hips.

“Well,” Leia says, tipping her chin down.

“Are you sure?” Han asks again.

He stops breathing because Leia moves close to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her chest to his. She adjusts against him and they both smile, eyes falling. They breathe together, Han dizzy with the feeling of her breasts pressing against his chest, his dick against her stomach, her hair against his chin. He kisses her head and she rubs her hands against his shoulders and neck until they’re kissing again.

Leia backs him into the bed and pushes him down on the bed. She’s silhouetted by the twinkling lights, small and curved and perfect. She climbs onto the bed and the shake in her hands doesn’t go unnoticed. He grabs her face and kisses her lips, her cheeks, her lips again. She flattens on top of him, her legs spreading over his hips and Han groans, slipping his tongue into her mouth at the feeling of her against his dick.

They move, hips rocking and hands moving and gripping. Leia is sighing and moaning, whispering his name, causing his hips to buck up, their bodies almost aligning perfectly, but she doesn’t angle herself just right and Han keeps his hips from thrusting too far.

She dips her mouth to his neck, biting and kissing, the friction still nice from their hips. He lays back and lets her guide them, threading her hair through his fingers and enjoying the sound of her moans and the pull of her teeth.

Leia stops, kissing the scar on his chin before she sits up, rolling off him.

“You okay?”

Leia’s face falls in annoyance and she lays back on the bed, sighing.

“I’m fine, Romeo, I just” -- Leia lowers her voice -- “want you to take over.”

“What was that?” Han says, sliding his hand down her stomach, between her legs. She looks away, sighing.

“Shut up.”

Han smiles, kissing her cheek, sliding his fingers around her, feeling her, but she’s warm and wet and ready. Her hips buck against his palm and when he pulls away she reaches for his waist and pulls him over her.

“I thought I was taking over, Princess.”

“Fuck me, flyboy.”

“Holy shit.”

Leia’s brown eyes are determined, but Han can see the pink tint to her cheeks. He reaches over to his nightstand and pulls out a condom, rolling it on as quickly as he can, her words echoing in his ears. Leia grabs his hips with strong fingers, nails digging into his skin. He reaches between them and guides himself toward her and she lets him go at the contact. Han turns his gaze to hers and watches her, waits for her to tell him to stop, as he pushes in. She doesn’t say anything, just bites her lip and holds his stare until he’s buried inside her.

“Okay?” Han whispers.

She nods.

He leans down and kisses her and she gasps against his lips, moving her hips below. She makes another amazing sound and rolls her hips again. And again, until he’s forced to move with her and he has to close his eyes and think of car parts in order to keep from cutting this short.

Leia arches her back beneath him and Han pushes up, gaining a new angle. It feels amazing, deep and soft and tight. Her breasts bounce as they move, her hands moving over his sides and his chest. She keeps biting her lip from making sounds, but they escape anyway. He asks if she’s okay and she nods, but Han is getting frustrated because she’s not getting close to coming at all. 

So Han sits up on his knees, thrusting slower. Leia covers her mouth with her hand, but Han gently takes her wrist and pulls it away. She raises an eyebrow at him and he pushes a little harder, gaining him a loud moan from her lips. He responds by saying her name; hopefully he’s encouraging.

He drops her hand, and she keeps it soft over her breast. It moves with the sway of their hips and Han groans, moving faster even though he doesn’t want to. He presses his thumb to her clit, resting his fingers on her stomach as he moves.

Leia tightens below him. Her moans get louder and swears tumble out of her mouth, causing him to move faster, push harder. She’s foul mouthed and beautiful and completely his. 

Han doesn’t realize how fast he’s climbing. The heat is traveling through his thighs, into his stomach, tightening quickly. Leia is arching her back, gripping her breast, and her moans are loud. Sometimes she screams so loud that she clamps her mouth shut and looks away, embarrassed, but Han just moves his thumb faster on her clit, thrusting harder into her.

It happens too soon and too quickly.

“Shit,” Han says.

The heat explodes through him and he flexes, spilling inside her. He hisses, rolling his hips as much as he can, his thumb moving faster and faster on her clit. He wants her to orgasm, and as he comes down, he gets more and more disappointed.

His hips can’t move anymore, everything too sensitive, but when he opens his eyes, he finds her eyes fluttering closed and her breathing quickening. Her chest moves up and down and he feels her tighten around his dick as her eyes fly open in surprise. 

“Leia,” he whispers.

Her body tightens, back arching and she yells out, squeezing her lips together to try to muffle the sound as her orgasm rolls through her. She shakes and covers her face but she’s beautiful, somehow both vulnerable and strong. Han falls forward and kisses her face, slipping out of her as she begins to relax beneath him.

Han gets up and disposes the condom as discreetly as possible, sliding back into his bed and wrapping himself around her. She lays on her back, Han’s fingers rubbing circles onto her stomach. His eyes won’t stay open, no matter how badly he tries to keep sleep away.

“M’gonna fall asleep.”

Leia smiles against his forehead.

“What time should I sneak out of here?” she asks.

Han snuggles in closer.

“My mom’s off at 6, she’ll be asleep by 7. Just sleep.” Han’s never been more thankful to be raised by a graveyard working single mom.

“What do I tell my parents?”

“Tell them you were with Luke at that dumb party.”

Leia giggles, kissing his forehead. “I love you.”

The warmth of happiness and sleep spreads through his body and Han sighs as he tells her, “I love you, too.”


	21. Starting Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: pls give me han leia smut. give me all of it

Han doesn’t know how to do this.

Not sex, no, no he knows how to have sex, he’s had sex before, a few times, lots of times, even. He understands sex, he can have sex, he is very good at sex, he like sex. A lot.

But this, this is sex with Leia.

And sex with Leia is already different and he hasn’t even taken her shirt off. He’s kissed her -- fuck, he’s kissed her. Her lips are warm and smooth and she kisses in a way that lets him lead but also clearly guides him along. It’s hypnotizing, just like her fingers in his hair and the way her hips sway. They don’t as much thrust as they sway, like she just needs a little movement, the lightest of friction.

What makes sex with Leia inherently different is, Han wants to be with her, really be with her, possibly forever, and that is what makes this so scary.

Leia pulls away from him and he watches her fingers grip the end of her shirt and pull it up over her head. Her shirt is gone, and before he can really appreciate this, she’s undoing her pants and bending down to slide them off along with her underwear.

It may have happened slowly, but it feels like he’s blinked and opened his eyes to reveal the stars. 

Leia breathes, holding her chin up, but there is a pink tinge to her cheeks. She wants him to think she’s okay, that she doubts nothing, that she’s not self conscious or worried, but he sees it. It’s in the rouge of her cheeks, her chest, the way her breathing is too rapid but makes her breasts move in a way that makes his cock throb. He reaches and traces a thumb along her cheek bone and lets his hand slip down her neck, along her shoulder and arm, until he’s holding her hand.

“We don’t have to,” he says.

“I know,” she says. “I want to.”

She lets go of his hand and it’s then that he realizes he needed her hand for support, not the other way around. She pulls his shirt off and tugs on his belt, shoving his pants down past his hips until they pool at his feet.

Leia traces the scar on his stomach and he inhales.

“I’ve never done this,” Leia whispers.

“It’s not so bad, I’m even good at it.” It sounds so cool in his head, but comes out shaky and low, his breath hitching with the trace of her finger.

Her eyes flick up to his, brown and annoyed, but playful. Her mouth tilts and Han’s stomach starts to unwind. 

Leia’s finger dips down, past his belly button and out toward his hip, where she traces the bone there. This is already so different, so slow, he’s used to rushed moments in dark corners where clothes stay on and words are meaningless. The barracks of the Falcon are small, incredibly cramped, but the glow of the yellow light does something radiant for her skin. 

She’s pale and small, curved and beautiful. Her breasts keep heaving with her breaths and it’s the most glorious sight he’s ever seen. Better than the stars when they blur from light speed, better than piles of credits, better than anything. Her stomach is perfectly soft and as his eyes drift lower, his mouth starts to water, wishing he could see more of her, taste more of her.

But she reaches for him first. It’s surprising and he almost immediately guides her away so he can kiss her -- fuck, he wants to kiss her -- but her hands are too fast. 

Her fingers wrap around his dick, cautious and soft, but completely heart stopping. Han looks down, watching her hand on him. He can feel the tremble in her fingers now, even as she grips harder, moves faster. He moans and she responds by moving quicker and the strokes aren’t right, too soft maybe, but they make his legs shake just the same.

He places a hand over hers and grips, showing her how to work him and her brow furrows, her mouth twisting. He lets go and she continues in a steady rhythm until her wrist twists and Han has to lean back, reaching for the edge of a bunk to steady himself. She looks up at him then, eyes hard and determined, the brown almost black in the lighting, or from something else entirely. Something inside her that he’s always known but has never seen like this.

“Leia,” Han whispers and her other hand joins and Han’s eyes refuse to stay open.

Leia strokes him, gripping harder and then softer in a rhythm that matches the twist of her wrist almost too well. She slows for a bit, rolling her palm over the head before sliding down the shaft, smoothing precum over his dick to help her glide along his skin. Her thumb moves along the rim, almost flicking the slit beneath before she moves fast and tight again. His eyes spring open, the familiar heat traveling through his legs and into the pit of his stomach. He says her name in warning, not wanting to cum, not yet, fuck, not yet, but she doesn’t stop.

“Leia,” he says again, his voice harsher. He grabs her wrist and pulls her away.

She gasps and Han thinks about Chewbacca’s disgusting stench after a swim to keep from finishing. They breathe together, Leia’s face caught in surprise, her breaths coming as quick as his. Han licks his lips, eyes locked on her. They’ve moved closer since he took her hand away, as if their bodies needed to make up for the absence. Her nipples graze his skin when she takes a deep breath.

Then, he remembers.

He remembers that he needs the feeling of skin. The warmth of her, the pliable way she kisses like she’s running the show but can’t help but feel someone else take charge. He cradles her face in his hands as he kisses her, pushing her chin down so he can slide his tongue between her lips, taste every inch of her. He sighs and her hands slide all over his torso, finally landing on his hips, pulling him closer. Han follows until she falls back on a bunk, her head smacking into the wall, but when he pulls back to check on her, she growls and pulls him back to her mouth.

They adjust on the small bed, lips desperate to stay together even as Han tries to align their bodies. He reaches between them, sliding a finger along her slit. She gasps in his mouth as he separates her, and their lips finally break apart as he pushes another finger along, exploring her.

She’s slick, warm, and his mouth is watering again. He licks his lips, forehead falling on hers as he pushes farther down, teasing her opening. Leia bites her lip and Han moves so he can look between their bodies. He watches his fingers disappear inside her, sees her back arch, making her stomach round, watches the soft bounce of her braests. He curls his fingers, feels her clench around them as her moans echo off the walls. He pushes three fingers in and it’s tight, deliciously so, and he thrusts into her, fucking her with his fingers until her hips are rolling along with him. 

He slows, pulling out of her, tracing her up and along her clit, circling lightly. She bucks up, squirming underneath him. He smiles, leaning down and nipping at the top of her breast. She gasps and goes still. He flicks his eyes up to her.

She’s watching him. He sticks out his tongue and takes a tentative lick of her skin just above her nipple and she moans, her eyelids fluttering. 

So he kisses and licks and sucks every inch of her breasts while his fingers circle her clit. Han rolls her nipple between his teeth and presses harder until her breathing gets faster and faster, in a rhythm that is entirely unpredictable. He looks at her again, her head thrown back into the one, awful pillow and takes his mouth away from her breast and moves up her body again. He keeps his fingers moving, whispering her name so her chin tilts down and he can kiss her lips.

Han’s hand moves from her clit and she whines against his mouth. He holds his cock and helps guide himself to her, lining them up, his muscles trembling at the contact. He pushes in, just a little, and Leia rolls her hips in response. He grabs her hips and steadies them, letting himself push in slowly. 

He breaths, hisses, and groans as he goes. Leia’s eyes are open, locked on his. He’s waiting for her to say it hurts, to tell him to stop, to make up any excuse than to let him fuck her. But she never does. She bites her lip, she hisses, she says his name, but never does she tell him to stop.

So he doesn’t. He buries himself in her to the hilt, pulls back and pushes again, faster and faster each time. She starts to move beneath him, craving more, and he gives it to her. He pushes the hair from her face and kisses her, and she presses on his chest so he can fuck her at an angle she’s already discovered. Leave it to Leia to develop sex strategies the first time. That’s fine, he’ll be like her mission plans or battlefield map and she can leave explosions along his body.

Han tells her how good she feels, he tells her he loves her. He swears and grips sheets as she scratches his arms and back. At some point he’s holding her hip in one hand and fucking her so hard, he’s sure he’s landed them into another system. He collapses over her, kissing her, slowing his hips so he can catch his breath. She whines along his lips, begging, “Keep going, hot shot.”

Her own fingers find her clit after that, Han’s own fingers digging into the shitting, scratching blanket and pistoning his hips as her knuckles graze his lower belly. Her eyes roll and his name is slipping out of her mouth in a beautiful plea that he’s never heard from her before. He chases that sound, makes her say it over and over again until her whole body tenses and she’s completely silent for so long that he’s worried everything is wrong.

Then, she moans, so loud and shaky, and her body trembles beneath him. He stops, kissing her, her pussy pulsing around him as she comes down. He twitches, unable to control his hips from rolling against her and Leia hisses and digs her nails into his shoulders. It burns, but it’s good, just like her kisses after a fight.

“Should I--”

“No, no,” Han says. “Stay right there.”

Leia’s sprawled on the bed, cheeks rosy and chest heaving, as he sits up on his knees. Her legs are around his hips and her body tilts up just enough that he feels deeper inside her. He finds a perfect spot on her torso for him to grip and fucks her.

Her breasts bounce and her head whips back as she screams, hands roaming everywhere. She grips sheets, holds onto her hair, reaches for him. She can’t be still and Han can’t stop his hips. He says her name and it makes her eyes snap open and lock on his, her hands stopping, one at her side, one over her breast. He reaches forward, the heat starting again, the stars starting to supernova behind his fluttering eyelids. He struggles to keep his eyes open, but he does, just long enough to watch her fingers squeeze, her nipple peeking out between two fingers and Han is completely, utterly gone.

He empties inside her, gripping her hips and pushing deeper with every strangled breath. Han falls onto her, Leia’s hands immediately digging into his hair. He growls into her neck, pressing his lips into her skin until he’s practically falling asleep on top of her.

Leia mumbles something about not being able to breathe and Han rolls toward the wall, wrapping his body around hers. His arm is over her chest, leg slung over her thigh, and he’s never felt more content. 

It’s terrifying.

This is all new -- again, not the sex -- but all of this. With her. With Leia. He doesn’t know how to handle this, how to stay awake because he just wants to be with her all the fucking time, but his body is warm and happy and sleep feels like it holds even more amazing promises. Being with her makes everything feel… hopeful, like all things, simple or complex, have potential. Even sleep, where the dreams are always busy and nostalgic in the worst ways.

So he stays awake, tracing run times on her skin. She kisses his forehead, but they say nothing, and it feels right, it really does. But he’s still unsure of what happens next. He knows he wants her, all of her, possibly forever, but how does he even do that?

He decides to start small.

“You should know, I talk in my sleep,” he says, his eyelids falling despite his best efforts.

Leia laughs, one of her soft, almost noiseless laughs that get stuck in his chest.

“You should know, I hog the covers,” she says.

Han groans, but he’s asleep before she’s done giggling.


	22. Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Designated driver AU thing based off one of those lists on tumblr that i CANNOT FIND NOW so just enjoy! // Contemporary college AU

She’s flipping through a magazine she found on the coffee table just as something crashes in the kitchen and someone yells her name.

Leia rolls her eyes and closes the magazine, tossing it to her right, hitting the couple that’s dry humping on the couch next to her. She’s not sure who the lovebirds are, much less the rest of these goons, but she owed Luke a favor. 

“Leia!” 

She follows the sound of her name, pushing off drunk guys and side stepping girls who are too wasted to be wearing such high heels. The music is loud, but whoever needs her right now is much louder. She walks into the kitchen and crosses her arms.

“Leiaaaaaa!” Her brother carries out the last bit of her name until he doubles over laughing. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Leia says.

It’s much quieter in the kitchen. It’s a mess, the countertops covered with soda cans and a heavy assortment of alcohol. Two guys kiss in the corner and a group of girls are doing shots in the opposite doorway. Luke’s hand is stuck in a chip bag while his other squeezes in a fist and pumps into the air, celebrating her arrival.

“Leiaaaaaaa,” Luke says again, laughing. “You have to take Han home.”

“Han?”

No. Leia scans the kitchen for a familiar face, her heart pounding.

“Yeah, sister-sister, he’s drunk and broke things so he is banished.”

Luke laughs and bends down behind the counter and reappears with another guy struggling to stay upright in his hold.

“No,” Leia says.

Both of them look at her and Luke’s face turns suddenly serious and Han Solo’s stupid mouth widens as he laughs.

“Absolutely not,” Leia says, louder this time.

“Madame Vice President!” Han bellows. “Take me home!”

“Luke, no way.”

“You promised, sister.”

“Don’t call me your sister, I’m going to tell dad about this party and he’ll tell mom and mom will kill you and then I will be an only child. Finally.”

Luke points to her, face serious but words still slurring. “Don’t tell mom.”

“I’m not putting that thing in my car,” Leia says.

“No worry, your highness, take me in the Falcon.”

“The point of a designated driver is to get everyone home safely, not die in a fiery car explosion.”

“The Falcon’s never exploded!” Han yells, pointing at her.

“Luke!”

“Leiaaaaaaa, you promised,” Luke says as he unscrews a bottle of vodka and pours some into a cup. It falls over and spills and he tries to clean it up, only creating a domino effect of cans and bottles. 

Leia swears and helps him clean up the mess, shoving the cup at him and shooing him away from the island. He drinks and starts singing along to the thumping music and disappears through the doorway. Leia yells after him, following, but Han grabs her arm.

“Let me go, or I will kill you.”

“Alright, alright, alright, alright.”

Han lets her go and Leia watches him stumble back into the counter.

Han Solo. Tall, dumb hair that is never combed, with eyes that always look like he’s committed three crimes while laughing about it. The scar on his chin is new, though, something he’s gained since going off to college. Apparently, the same college her brother is going to. To be honest, Leia is surprised he even got into college, but maybe there was something in that head of his.

“Can you walk?” Leia asks, seething.

“I have two legs,” Han says.

She rolls her eyes and walks to the door, not bothering to make sure that Han is following her. Unfortunately, he is, stumbling down the porch and to the sidewalk, catching up to her enough to grab her and drag her the wrong direction.

“My car is that way,” Leia says, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

“No, take me in the Falcon. I need it.”

“Your precious car will be fine.”

“Oh, please, Madame President,” Han begs, falling to his knees. Leia tries to pull him up, looking back at the party as if any of those other wasted idiots could help her right now. “Please, please, please, please.”

“What is wrong with you?” Leia asks, swatting his hands away that keep gripping her arms, her hips, her legs. “Fine, fine,” she growls.

Han sways on the ground, blinking slowly as if his body can’t keep up with the neurons that are signaling. 

“Thanksssssss, beautiful.”

Leia’s cheeks flame and she bites her lip, walking past him and down the way he was pulling her earlier. She can hear him yelling for her to wait, his hands bracing himself against cars and swears escaping his lips as he stumbles. She rubs her cheeks, willing them to stop burning. Han Solo may have been cute when she was 15 and he was a senior who kept calling her Madame President and kissing girls in the hallway in a way that made her need a cold drink of water, but he was always and still is, an idiot. 

Han struggles to unlock the car door and they both get in when he finally succeeds. It smells like boy cologne and cigarettes in there and the combination should not be doing it for her, but it is, and she could kill herself for being so weak. She focuses her energy on tryign to start the car, listening to Han as he tells her to push on the clutch as he hits the dashboard and she turns the key simultaneously. 

When the Falcon finally roars to life, Han let’s out a way too loud, “Woohoo!” Leia smacks him.

“Be nice, Princess,” he says, “to me and the Falcon. She’s special.”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, jealous? You’re a very special girl, too.”

“Just tell me how to get to the hole you live in.”

Han pulls out his phone and scrolls as Leia drives away from the curb. He puts his phone on top of the dashboard, Maps showing her the way to the hole. She glances at him and Han reaches over, booping her nose before falling back into the seat, smashed against the door.

Leia shakes her head, willing the butterflies in her stomach to stop flying. Han fumbles with the radio and sings along to the music as she navigates through the neighborhood until she gets onto the freeway.

He’s quiet most of the way home, only singing or almost falling asleep against the window. Leia tries not to think about how they are alone, how when she was 15 she probably dreamed of this day in the future. Instead, she keeps remembering why he’s such an asshole, how he teased her and laughed with his friends about, “the little Skywalker.” She remembers how he’d rub her head like she was a dog and tell the girl of the week on his arm that she was, “just that little girl who was running for class president.” 

“But she likes you,” Legs for Days said. “The poor thing.”

Leia heard Han laugh as she rounded the corner of the hallway and then he was quiet, probably kissing Legs for Days for all he’s worth. That’s how he kissed. Or, from what she could tell, anyway.

She’s not proud to admit she cried in the bathroom after that, but she did. It wasn’t long until her tears turned to anger and she started to ignore Han Solo completely, she didn’t even go to his graduation party even though Luke told her, “Han wanted to make sure I invited you,” as he got ready the night of. Leia tilted her chin and declined, spending the night reading and eating ice cream instead.

Leia parks along the street, turning the car off. Han blinks rapidly, looking out the window and then back at Leia, his smile growing bigger than she’s ever seen before.

“We’re home!”

“ _You’re_ home, yes. Somehow the car didn’t blow up.”

Han leans forward, patting the dashboard. “Don’t listen to her,” he whispers.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to get home,” Leia mumbles, unlocking her phone and scrolling through her texts for someone to pick her up. “Needed the stupid car, what a--”

“Madame President, help!”

Leia looks up, the Falcon’s passenger side door wide open and Han flat on his face on the sidewalk. 

She means to roll her eyes or to yell for him to get his ass up or to just speed away and steal his precious car. Instead, she laughs. She laughs really hard and loud, and she can’t stop. Her stomach starts to hurt and tears are forming in the corner of her eyes. Han turns his head and pouts at her, his hair disheveled and eyes glassy. She keeps laughing, getting out of the car, shoving his keys into her purse. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Han says. His own laughter is escaping through his pouting. “I’m drunk.”

“You’re something.” Leia tries to get her laughter to subside, breathign deeply and coughing. “Come on.”

Leia pulls Han up and he leans into her, his arm around her shoulders, pushing his face into her hair. She shivers and pushes him away, walking forward. She follows his directions through the side yard of an old house, walking with Han to a guesthouse in the backyard. They pass a small kiddie pool and a few scattered toys and Leia almost asks who lives here, but he’s searching for his keys.

“Oh no, I left them at the party.”

“No, no, I have them.”

There’s only two keys on his keyring along with an airplane keychain, so Leia slides in the the key, unlocking the door. Han grabs her face and pulls it up to him, stopping just before their noses touch. Leia wants to push him away, needs to push him away, but she can’t seem to move. Despite how drunk he is, his breath smells slightly sweet. Does he drink sweet drinks? Leia’s head swims and her limbs start to tingle.

“You saved me, Madame President.”

Han lets her go and enters his house, leaving Leia to remember how to breathe.


	23. Too Little Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Can you do some High School Graduation AU with Han and Leia?

“Good speech.”

Leia pushes her tassel from her face as she turns around.

Han Solo in all his tilted smile, floppy haired glory is standing there draped in the same red robe they’re all wearing. His cap is tucked under his arm, and his eyes are squinting because of the blaring sun. Leia wishes the butterflies would stop flapping in her stomach and the flames would calm in her chest, but this is what Han Solo does to her. She still hasn’t accepted it; not fully.

There’s no reason to accept anything about Han Solo. She’s going to Stanford in the fall, and he is not.

“Thank you,” Leia says.

“Yeah, I mean, I only yawned once.”

Leia rolls her eyes, shoving his shoulder. He stumbles backward and Leia starts toward her family. Her mom is brushing Luke’s hair out of his eyes, while her dad waits to take another photo. 

Han grabs her arm and spins her around, her cap flying off her head. Leia opens her mouth to yell something at Han, like calling him a jerk or some other terrible name, but her body slams into his, rendering her speechless. 

When she looks up at him, she notices that his cap is back on his head, incredibly crooked as if matching his smile or the scar on his chin. Leia tries to breathe and possibly move away, but she can’t. 

The football field melts away, the yelling families, the running children, the constant flashes and shutter sound of iPhones disappearing, and it’s just them. This isn’t the first time she’s felt the entire world melt away because of Han. There was the time they sat in the humanities building hallway during lunch to cram for their final only to end up laughing on the floor instead. Once they fought in the middle of English class and everyone left them in there to finish and Leia nor Han noticed until a half hour after school ended. There was prom, when he asked her to dance, taking her away from her date, and giving her that prom night moment that all those stupid magazines promised her. 

“You look beautiful, Leia,” he said that night. 

He didn’t call her princess or your highness or Miss Bossy Pants, just Leia. His bow tie was undone and he smelled like spiked punch and she was stupidly in love with him.

Now there’s this. Graduation day, her cap gone, gown open in the breeze and Han’s hands on her. One is on her hip for support and the other is underneath her chin, tilting her mouth up and up. 

Leia wishes she had a mint, or that she wasn’t coated in sunscreen, or that she applied chapstick after her speech. Most of all, once his lips press against hers, she wishes he had done this a long, long time ago.

Han pulls away, nudging her nose with his.

“Are you sure you want to go to Stanford?”

Leia tugs him closer and kisses him again. The sun is hot and she’s pretty sure her whole body is covered in flames. Han pushes her lips apart and she welcomes him, enjoys the depth of the kiss, wondering what life is like after a kiss like this, after her heart has expanded and broken over and over again with every movement of his lips and graze of his fingers.

She kisses him until she’s sure she’s only just breathing him in instead of the oxygen she knows she needs to survive, because yes, she does want to go to Stanford and that means she needs to stop wanting Han.

And she only just got him.

Han’s thumbs graze her cheeks as he pulls away, whispering, “We should stop, there are children.”

Leia nods, stepping back quickly. She looks back at her family. Her parents are distracted, talking to someone else’s mothers, thank God. Luke, however, is staring right at them, his jaw dropped and eyes huge.

“Is your brother going to punch me?” Han asks.

Leia shakes her head.

“No, but I might.”

“Why’s that princess, you just love me too much?”

Leia squints into the sun, looking up at Han, who is silhouetted perfectly in front of the yellow rays. She sighs, shaking her head, as Han slips his fingers into hers. 

“Yes,” she says, “that is exactly why.”


	24. Anytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia blows off some beating the bad guys steam using Han's body.

“Han!”

“What?” 

“Get out here.”

Han groans, removing his goggles and pushing himself up through the deep engines of the Falcon. He scans the hangar until he finds her. 

Her hair is up in a crown of a couple braids, a few strands flying wild. Her cheeks are tinged pink and her arms are stiff at her sides, fingers clenched into fists. He almost asks what he did, but then he sees the soft sheen to her eyes. She’s not angry, not even entirely stressed (although she is that, he knows), but upset. Guilty. Laced with regret.

Han yells down to Chewie that he’ll be back, and Chewie doesn’t seem to mind Han abandoning him. Han pulls himself out of the Falcon, walks across the ship and jumps down the ladder as fast as he can. 

“What–”

“Follow me,” she says.

He does. They go through corridors, bumping into generals and pilots who only take one look at Leia before quickly walking away. Han reaches for her hand, and she actually takes it, but doesn’t squeeze back as she drags him through the base. 

They reach a door and she opens it, tugging him inside and throwing it shut. Han has exactly three seconds to try to figure out what this dark, tiny room is before his back is slamming against a wall.

Her lips are warm against his, almost swollen. She’s been biting them again. Sometimes, after long days, Leia’s lips are so puffy and torn from her own teeth, Han spends the night kissing her cheeks and her nose, her forehead and jawline, leaving her lips to heal. Today, however, he lets her kiss him with her bruising lips and heals them in a different way. 

His shirt is lifted and her nails dig down his sides, over his chest, and he hisses against her lips. She kisses down to his neck, and whispers an apology along his pulse point. He assures her it’s fine and gets through the pain by pulling her hair and the room fills with her moans.

She undoes his pants and before they fall to the floor, she’s gripping his dick and sliding her fist over his growing length. He swears, stutters her name between groans, while he tries to return the favor. His hands crave her breasts, but her jacket won’t unzip and she keeps jerking him off like watching him come undone will solve all of her problems.

It won’t, it never does, but it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been on the floor of the Falcon or across a cot while she tries to make it happen anyway.

“Leia,” Han growls in warning and she slows her pace and softens her grip just enough.

Just enough to get his hands to steady on her pants to undo them. Just enough for him to be able to pull down her underwear and turn them so her back is against the wall instead of his. Just enough for Han to remember that he can touch her, too, slide along her curls and find her clit so her back arches.

“Please,” she begs.

Leia widens her legs and Han bends down, cupping her ass and hoisting her up so her legs wrap around his waist. He presses her against the wall for support and her hand helps their bodies align. She’s slick, warm, and welcoming against his cock and Han braces himself with one hand on the door and his forehead against hers.

She begs him again and Han pushes, burying himself all the way inside her on the first thrust.

They both groan, a, “Yes,” falling out of Leia’s mouth like a prayer. Han fucks her against the door like she wants. He slams her ass against it when she wants it harder, bends his knees and thrusts up so he can be deeper, pounds as fast as he can when she begs him to go faster. He’s tired and the sweat is slick on their skin, the smacking of their bodies echoing, the bruises already beautifully forming.

He gives it to her like she wants, like she needs, and he takes every scratch of her nails along his back and bite on his neck like a small present, a token of what he can do for her; finally do for her.

Han Solo can’t beat the bad guys and he can’t single handedly fix her family or the galaxy, but he can help her deal with the disappointments that surround his beautiful, powerful wife.

After, Han helps her find her clothes and she flattens his hair. When they embrace, Han’s lips soft in her hair, she tells him she lost two squadrons today, that all their missions are failing, that she’s failing.

Han kisses her forehead and Leia runs her thumbnail over his collarbone. He shivers.

“You know none of that is true, princess.”

Leia nods, pushing up on her tiptoes so she can kiss beneath his jaw.

“I know,” Leia says, “thanks or the reminder.”

Han kisses her lips.

“Anytime.”


	25. Bubbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT PROMPT: In the bath (Contemporary College Roommate AU)

A month ago, Han walked into the bathroom and found Leia in the bathtub. Luckily for her, there were bubbles.

“Get the fuck out of here!”

“Look at you, a real princess,” he said, walking closer to the tub in that way he does with his hips.

“Get out,” she repeated, covering her chest and praying the bubbles wouldn’t suddenly disappear.

“Oh, I don’t know. This is the only bathroom and it smells nice in here. Lavender?” 

Getting a roommate was a mistake, that much was clear now. 

Han put the toilet seat down and sat, reclining back against the tank, locking his hands behind his head like he was lounging by the pool.

“Listen, scumbag, I know that you’re a pervert monster idiotic maniac–”

“Wow.”

“But you can’t be in here.”

“We should really get the lock fixed on the door.”

To his credit, Han hadn’t looked at her since his initial discovery. But still, he was there, and him being in the bathroom was making her imagine his eyes on her and that led to thinking about his hands on her, and Leia didn’t want to be thinking about that. She was better than thinking about that. Especially with Han, who really couldn’t be bothered to ever take a shower, let alone a bath, and still smelled good and looked good and – _ugh_.

“It’s not lavender, is it? It’s Eucalyptus.”

“Yes,” Leia mumbled.

“Well, it smells great.”

“I wish you would leave.”

“I know, princess, I know.”

Now, he’s here. He’s kissed her neck and pressed his lips against hers so many times, Leia’s lost count. A month after he found her in the bathtub, right after she rented her spare room to him out of desperation, he’s here. He’s in the bubbles and his body is slick and hard and nice against hers. When he moves, the water spills over, and he has bubbles on his chin as he dips just a little under the water to catch his teeth on her breasts. She swats at him, but then pulls him back when he moves away.

His fingers move under the water and push into her. Leia grabs onto his shoulders and moans, reminding her of the other times he’s done this. Not so many times, not yet, this is all still fresh and new and ridiculous. Maybe it’s even complicated since they live together, but that’ll work out. Hopefully.

The bathtub is small, not really meant for the two of them, but Han doesn’t mind that half his body is covered in bubbles and out of the water, and she doesn’t mind that the bathroom is possibly flooding. She has enough on her mind, in her heart, between her legs, along her skin to worry about.


	26. Dreams and Realities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the designated driver chapter. If you ever wrote a sequel to that, I'd be in your debt. I've wondered if they hooked up/made out, or if he just passed out and she had to wait for a ride home in the morning. Or a combination of that? I don't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5548964/chapters/15641656)! Enjoy!

His apartment is cleaner than Leia would’ve imagined. He even has a throw blanket on his couch. Han stumbles over a forgotten shoe and leans into the couch, mumbling something about swimming and falls face first into the cushions. 

Leia shakes her head, scanning the rest of the living room, and heads into his bathroom. It’s the only open door.

“Where’s Chewie?” Leia asks.

She’s not even sure if Chewie went to the same school as Han, but it’s hard to imagine one without the other, and someone has to keep this place looking somewhat decent. Chewie always was the more decent, organized one.

“S’home for break.”

Leia opens Han’s medicine cabinet, pushing past various sample sizes of cologne, toothpaste, and soaps. There’s a can of shaving cream that has no cap, little clouds of cream sitting on top. She looks through drawers until she finally spots a bottle of Asprin. 

The kitchen looks more like what she expected. Dishes are piled in the sink with a few pizza boxes stacked by the trash can. Leia finds a cup and fills it with water, taking it back to the couch where Han still is face planted, his body hanging half into the couch and half off the arm, legs planted on the floor in a weird spread eagle.

“Sit up,” Leia says, kicking his foot, “so you can take these and I can get an Uber or something and get the hell out of here.”

“Madam Pressssident,” Han mumbles. 

Leia sighs, placing the cup and bottle on the coffee table before grabbing his hand. It’s incredibly warm and so big. She remembers looking at his hands, always covered in grease or something from working on his car, and how he used to bop her nose or rub her hair. Holding his hand is different, even if she hates him and is trying to drag his limp, drunk body off a couch.

Han stumbles up and she catches him before springing away, as if he has some kind of disease. Like being around him again is going to make her like him and then be heartbroken about him like a small 15 year old with pages and pages of journals written about him. She tore out the one about him saying he voted for her. No matter what age she is, that page will always be too sad.

Luckily, he stays on his feet and Leia can grab his medicine and water and hand it to him. He stares at the bottle, but drinks the water. All of it.

“Give me that,” Leia hisses and walks back to the kitchen, filling his glass again. “Here.” She grabs the bottle and puts three Aspirins in his hand, giving his cup back in the other. 

His eyelids are heavy, but he still manages to wink at her. Leia looks down but back up again as he tosses the pills in his mouth, drinking all his water again in four big gulps. His neck clenches and releases, muscles sliding against skin, veins leading down in soft trails into his shoulders. She watches him sway as he finishes, lips slick with water.

“Thanks, prez.”

Leia clears her throat, begging her stomach’s heat to subside. 

“You’re welcome. I have to go.”

She turns to leave, but Han grabs her hand, pulling her.

“No,” Han says. He keeps pulling, but it’s weak and unsteady, like how he stands in his own living room. “Please.”

Leia considers this. Maybe she should stay. Han is close to choking on his own vomit in his sleep, and it’s late anyway. Luke has her car to persuade someone to drive him home if he needs it. Wait, no she has her keys. Should she go back to the party? Where’s her phone?

Han’s thumb is rubbing along the inside of her wrist. She looks down, noticing it, feeling it. She takes a shaky breath and looks back up at him. He’s not looking at her, he’s looking where his hand meets hers.

“I’m hungry,” he blurts, dropping her wrist.

Leia lets out a breath and runs her hands through her hair. 

“I have to go.”

“No, no, no, no, um” -- Han hiccups -- “I have pizza.”

Han runs to the kitchen, tripping again and running into a wall on his way there. Leia runs to him to make sure he’s okay and he doesn’t stop, going to the fridge and yanking it open. He pulls out yet another pizza box and plops it on the kitchen counter.

“Ta-da!”

“Fine, one slice. You owe me.”

“S’true, Little Skywalker.”

They eat cold pizza on the couch. Han tries to turn on his TV while he talks about watching episodes of Shark Tank and Leia helps him actually get the TV to function. He stops it on TruTV and they watch something about killer wives or husbands and Han tells her about school and how hard it is.

“I actually have to try,” he says with a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni. 

Leia shakes her head and talks about her first year away from home and her skin burns under his gaze. She doesn't remember Han being so attentive. He teased her and rubbed her head like she was a house cat, but this clear, unfaltering attention on her when she talks is almost overwhelming. It makes her words stumble over each other and her palms sweat. 

Han still sways as he eats, leans into the cushions every once and awhile to keep his balance, but it’s clear he’s sobering. Leia gets him another glass of water and he downs it quickly again, as if he’s never had a drink in his life. For some reason, she puts his insane thirst when he’s drunk down in her memory like she’ll need it later. Old habit, maybe. She used to notice his favorite brand of chewing gum (Trident Spearmint) when she was in high school. He got a pack on Valentine’s Day from a secret admirer. 

They’re quiet, watching an infomercial, when Han stands, mumbling about the bathroom. He stumbles over her, using her legs for balance and making Leia’s head swim at the image of his huge hands on her thighs. He disappears behind the bathroom door and Leia uses this time to try to leave.

She’s looking for her phone when something crashes in the bathroom and Han yells.

“Han?” Leia yells. “Han?”

Leia curses and runs to the door, knocking and saying his name again.

“Help,” he groans.

Leia opens the door and finds him sitting in the bathtub without a shirt on.

“Was gonna take a shower,” Han mumbles helplessly.

Leia giggles and Han tells her not to laugh at him, but soon he’s joining her.

“Are you okay?” she finally asks, trying to control her laughter.

“Yes, but I need help.”

Leia pulls him up and he wraps an arm around her shoulder, just like he did on their walk to his car, and Leia just leans back into him. She’s tired and his body is warm and taught with lean muscle and there’s a splattering of hair along his chest that is oddly placed and it might be the cutest thing on Han’s entire body.

Oh, God, she’s tired.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Leia says, dragging him around the corner and down the hall. 

Han points to his door and he flips on a light when they walk in.

It’s small, hardly bigger than her old walk in closet at her parents’ house. He has a mattress on the floor with a lot of blankets balled on it, a pile of clothes in the corner and a few shirts that are hung up on a hook in the other corner. He has a couple pictures taped to the wall above his pillows and his light is just one small lamp that sits on a crate that holds some books and an old laptop inside it. It smells like that cigarette and cologne combination that made her skin tingle in his car. 

“Mm, bed,” Han mumbles, nuzzling his nose into her hair, his lips actually brushing her ear. 

Leia closes her eyes and lets him pull them both down into the mound of random covers. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, even with the lumps of blankets. Han fights each blanket, trying to get it out from under them and Leia looks at the door, trying to will herself to leave. Maybe it’s her 15 year old self coming through, maybe it’s the way Han tucks her in clumsily, maybe it’s the fact that she’s so tired and warm in here that prevents her from leaving. She still considers it, even tells Han she needs to go as her eyes fall shut, but as soon as Han pulls her to him, perfectly aligning his front ot her back with his arms wrapped around her waist, she decides to stay.

The lamp is off when Leia wakes up, dazed and still somewhere between sleeping and waking. The bed moves as Han gets up and Leia tries to find the strength to get up, to call out to him, but she’s so nestled in his cocoon of blankets and warmth. He returns and forms his body perfectly back against hers and she falls asleep again, feeling his lips on her neck as he whispers, “Madam President.” She must be dreaming.

Sunlight wakes her the next time. It’s creeping through his curtains, which is really just a sheet pinned to the wall. It’s a light blue, light filtering through the fabric and casting a blue and gold glow along his few possessions. She’s facing him now, their ankles crossed, and Han’s face buried in his pillow. His hair is wild and there’s a new shadow growing on his jaw. She turns to try to get up, but he rubs her side, making her want to go back to sleep.

But she has to pee.

She gets up and checks her phone. It’s almost dead, but no messages from Luke, and she goes to the bathroom, rubbing some toothpaste on her teeth and splashing her face with water as she remembers the reading she needs to be doing before break is over.

She looks at herself in the mirror. She’s here, in Han Solo’s apartment. She slept with him last night. In his bed, their bodies pressed together and Han’s lips on her skin as he snored. She’s smiling and she really shouldn’t be. 

She goes back into his room, considering bolting for the millionth time, but his hand on the spot where she was makes her walk forward and crawl back into bed. He hums at the movement and runs his hand along her side as she gets back in place alongside him. He’s slowly waking, his eyes fluttering open, closing again, small sounds escaping from his throat in tired contentment. 

Leia closes her eyes. Her body is erupting in small waves of electricity, softly caressing her skin with every pass of Han’s hand, completely warming her from the inside when his hips start to move.

He’s hard and every time his hips move toward her, she responds with her own soft, testing thrust. He moans, his hand moving lower, the pressure a little harder. She arches her back as he lines her spine and their bodies move closer when his hand covers her ass. She licks her lips, slowly opening her eyes.

He’s looking at her, his own eyes barely open with sleep. They roll a little when she pushes against him, sliding her leg between his. 

“Thank you for staying,” Han whispers, his voice hitching as her hand connects with his bare chest, her nails sliding against his skin.

Leia nods, willing her brain to function to form words, any words at all, but it’s all too much. His body against hers, the smell of his room, the warmth of the sunlight. 

“And taking care of me,” he says, lifting the bottom of her shirt so his hand can slip inside. “I was fucked up.”

Leia only nods again.

Han smirks, leaning closer to her. “Madam President, you sure are quiet this morning.”

Leia rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to tell him he can fuck off, but he kisses her instead.

His lips are wet and he tastes like water and the morning, and before she can think of where he got water while she was gone or contemplate hating his morning breath, he opens her mouth with his and lifts her shirt more and more. She shivers, kissing him back, finding herself lost in the sof trace of his tongue and slide of his lips. Their bodies still move, slower now, as their mouths connect and her mind reels. Han Solo is kissing her. Han Solo who she cried about during the homecoming dance because he promised her a dance and then left early with a girl with curly red hair. Han Solo who laughed at her in the halls, who pet her like a dog, and treated her like she was a long lost little sister that he loved to tease.

He’s kissing her. Just like she imagined, for all he’s worth.

Han grabs the bottom of her shirt and pulls it up, their lips parting as he tosses it over her head. They fall back on the bed and Han kisses her, softly this time, and between words.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Leia says, hopefully not too desperate, not too excited, not too needy.

Han moves his lips over her neck, her shoulders, moving the straps of her bra, and finally undoing it so he can find more skin with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

“I always liked you, Little Skywalker,” he says, kissing her breast, his bottom lip grazing her nipple. Leia moans. “You were always too good for me. Still are.” 

His tongue moves lower, circling her nipple before taking it completely into his mouth.

Leia’s head swims, fuzzy and blurred with memories of him. She can’t be hearing him right. She tries to focus, but she can’t, his teeth on her, his tongue firm and wet. She groans, pushing him away.

“You hated me.”

“What?” he asks. His lips are swollen, hair a mess.

“In high school, you hated me.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“No.”

Leia sits up, hands on her waist. “You did.”

Han’s eyes are determined and almost bewildered, but they drift low, making his mouth turn up.

“Leia, I assure you, I liked you a lot.”

He crawls toward her and places a kiss on her neck, another on her collarbone.

“Still do.”

Leia rolls her eyes but his mouth travels down, making her sway forward. She holds onto his shoulders and Han helps her lay back down onto the mattress. 

“You were going to run the school, and one day run the entire world, I could not compete with that.”

Leia’s stomach burns, butterflies of flame dancing deep in her gut. She tries to focus on her breath, but it’s hard. Every swipe of Han’s tongue sends something new through her, a small bite making her wiggle beneath him, her back arching at his touch.

“You’re lying,” Leia breaths as Han undoes her jeans.

“How many student body president campaign speeches do you think I went to?” Han pulls down her pants, taking her panties with them. “One. When you were running my senior year.” Han crawls over her leg, pausing to kiss her knee. He kneels between her legs, eyes following the trail his hands take up her legs, spreading them. “Coincidently, that was the only time I ever voted, too.”

“Then why--”

Why didn’t he kiss her? Why didn’t he hold her hand in the hallway like she saw him do with so many others? Why didn’t he save that dance for her at homecoming? Why did he laugh about her with other girls?

But her questions stick in her throat like glue. Han kisses up her thigh, nuzzling and teasing her, moans vibrating along her skin. Delicious, amazing noises she didn’t know Han could make, that her imagination wasn’t good enough to form. Her hips roll up even though she’s a ball of nerves, even though she’s a little scared about his face being so close to her like this, but her body is taking over.

“This okay?” Han asks. He kisses just below her belly button and Leia moans some new, desperate sound she’s never heard before. He smils up at her. “Leia?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

His fingers move first, flat and firm against her, sliding along her clit, down into her cunt with a soft thrust. Leia moans, her back arching, her head thrown back into his pillow. She grips one of the many blankets and pulls on it, trying to cover herself, but then Han’s fingers move and she falls flat on the bed again. He thrusts in and out of her, his thumb brushing her clit with easy strokes as he goes. She looks down at him, his eyes steady on his hands working her, mouth open just a little, his tongue rolling along his bottom lip. It’s scary, to be seen this up close, but the way he looks at her makes her fearless.

His eyes flick up to her and his wrist turns, fingers pushing up and stroking. Leia gasps, their gaze locked.

“This,” Han says, “or something like this, ah.” Han licks his lips, blinking as if to clear his mind. Leia can’t stop moaning and shaking. Han slows down. “Was supposed to happen at my graduation party. I was going to tell you, Leia.”

He moves faster again and Leia falls back, the room spinning. One strong hand reaches across her torso, grabbing her breast, rubbing the flesh between his fingers, circling her nipple.

“Tell me, ah, fuck, Han,” Leia moans, frustrated at her inability to get the words out. He slows down and she’s both thankful and outraged. “Tell me what?”

Han moves down, his fingers pulling away from her, now placing her thighs on his shoulders.

“That I was completely in love with you, of course.”

Leia springs up just in time to watch his face fall between her legs and she can’t move. She can’t speak, either. She can’t even comprehend his words because his tongue is deep inside her, thrusting and tasting and lining every single nook of her. He’s messy and everywhere, circling her clit and biting her thigh between lapping up her cunt like she’s his favorite flavor.

His eyebrows furrow and he moans, sending vibrations through her. She falls back, dizzy in his admittance and tongue and hands. His fingers drift inside her to take over for his tongue when he has to kiss her thighs or suck her clit. She wants to slow down and think about what he said but she can’t even get her head around every single sensation that’s pulsing through her. How it ebbs and flows within her, how it builds and builds and then lowers again just enough for her to climb one more time. It’s overwhelming and incredible.

Leia’s heels dig into his back, moving until her ankles are locked and Han moves faster, somehow gets his tongue deeper. His fingers spread her, allowing his tongue to lick every inch of her. Han can’t stop moaning and the room is spinning so much that Leia has to close her eyes. Her back arches with his thrusts; two, then three fingers pumping into her as his tongue flattens against her clit, lips sucking every few swipes until she’s screaming. She’s so high, teetering above the world, floating with the stars until she is at the very top and she falls, her body roaring with electricity.

She shoves his head away. He won’t stop licking her and Leia is sure she’s about to burst, every nerve ending too sensitive to touch. He leans down, wiping his face on a blanket and kissing her shin. She’s shaking and whimpering, her cunt pulsing with relief and want all at once. 

Han crawls up the bed and wraps himself around her, pushing her hair off her face. He kisses her and Leia turns, locking their bodies together again. He tastes like her, his tongue moving in her mouth just like it did along her clit moments before, only much, much slower. His hips start to move and hers do, too. She moves her fingers to the clasp of his jeans and she starts to undo them.

“We don’t have to, I mean I--”

“No--”

“It’s just--”

“I want to, Han.”

“Really?”

The look on his face is way too dreamy and hopeful for a man who just spent so much time between her legs. She scrunches her face.

“Yeah, of course.” She smiles, maneuvering his pants off of him, then removing his boxers. “Do you have a condom?”

“But aren’t you…”

“A virgin? No.” 

Han sits up. “Wait -- with who?”

Leia was inclined not to believe him before, but maybe Han really is in love with her. His eyes are big, jaw sharp, like he’s jealous.

“Condom, Han.” Han finally turns, digging into a shoebox against the wall. He opens the condom and Leia clears her throat. “Wedge.”

“No.”

“What? He took me to prom, we had sex after.” Han rubs his neck. “Are you jealous, Han Solo?”

“Let’s not talk about Antilles again.” He puts the condom on, tossing the wrapper behind him.

Leia laughs. “You’re jealous.”

Han rolls her onto her back and knees her legs apart. Leia gasps, feeling him hard and perfect against her. She rolls her hips up.

“Yes,” he growls. “I’m not proud of it.”

“Poor Han Solo,” she coos, pushing his hair away from his forehead. Her stomach twists as she looks him over. His new scar, his dusted with hair jaw, that look in his eye that shouldn’t do something to her. She barely gets her words out, suddenly thrown by this, this moment in time when she’s in Han Solo’s bed, naked, ready for him. “You have me now.”

Han places his forehead on hers, sliding his hand between them to help them align. She gasps as he pushes, just a little, stretching her.

“Just for today,” he whispers.

He pushes deeper. 

“Maybe.”

Leia rolls her hips up, urging him.

“More than just today?” 

Han groans, pushing all the way. They both still, Leia’s heart racing in her ears.

“Maybe,” Leia whispers, kissing him.

Han begins to move, fucking her deep and slow, so slow. They moan when he’s buried in her, inhaling together as he pulls back.

“But Georgetown,” he says, groaning. He thrusts some more, kissing her softly before he continues. “It’s far.”

Leia nods and pushes him until he rolls onto his back and she sits up. He’s deep, incredibly deep, she can feel him in her throat. She swallows and moves slowly over him.

“You got a girlfriend here, Fly Boy?”

Han’s eyelids flutter closed as he laughs, shaking his head.

“No, Madam President,” he says, groaning as she picks up speed. She bounces a little and he curses, grabbing her hips. “Only you -- ah, shit, Leia -- if you’ll have me.”

Leia leans down, softly rolling her hips as she kisses him. Han wraps his arms around her waist, holding her tight against him. He thrusts up into her, driving himself in deep while holding her low and all she can do is scream and hold on, relishing in every thrust as he fucks her. He warns her that he’s close and she moans his name as he digs his nails into her skin and comes.

They breathe together, lips finding each other in sloppy, slow, desperate kisses. He pulses inside her and she loves the feeling, the fullness and vulnerability of it all. She closes her eyes and roots herself here, in Han Solo’s bed, naked, sweaty and sticky and full, something she’s only ever dreamed about. Something she never thought was real. Something impossible. 

Things have changed, she’s different now, and she can only imagine he is, but 15 year old Leia would never forgive her if she didn’t seize this opportunity, if she didn’t dive in, head first, into something real and possible. If Han wants to try to be her boyfriend even though their schools are hundreds of miles away, she’s going to say yes.

Leia sighs, rubbing her nose along Han’s and kisses him before whispering against his lips.

“Let’s give it a shot.”


	27. Worth the Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: A kiss because I have literally been watching you all night and I can’t take anymore || High School AU because you know how I do!

Some would call Han a slut.

Okay, and sure, that’s warranted, but who cares? It’s high school. He should be able to slut it up as much as he wants. Sometimes, it’s not even his fault! Girls come to him, okay? It’s not his fault he’s super smart, super attractive, and super good at making out, sex, whatever. 

So, being a slut? It’s fine. He’s good at it, he likes it. Everyone knows, too, so it makes awkward, “we’re not together,” conversations practically non existent. 

But in the first week of Han’s senior year, he sees her.

She is tiny, but holds her chin high as she walks the halls, raises her hand in his AP History class as if she isn’t scared to fail. She answers questions wrong and gives a small smile and says, “You’re right, thank you,” as if it’s a privilege to be wrong.

She has huge brown eyes and naturally rosy cheeks with long, long, long hair that she lets flow down her back. Han’s thought about running his fingers through it too many times to admit, has made out with Laney Paulson, wishing her hair between his fingers was brown and long, not red and short. 

He tries to learn about her, which is new for him. He learns she has a locker on the other side of the hall, just after the right turn to the gym. He learns she’s transferred here, a Sophomore who takes advanced classes that land her in two of his own. He learns her binder is color coordinated and her notes are impressively neat. He learns she doesn’t go to football games, has never heard of the Millennium Falcon (she’s new, he lets it slide), and that when she’s angry, she’s even more beautiful.

So maybe he picks at her, maybe he tries to answer questions just so she can’t, maybe he bumps her shoulder in the hallway, maybe he flirts with her and she hates it. Maybe.

“Leia,” he says. It’s lunch and she’s sitting with a small group of girls who have taken her under their wing. The student council crowd. Not Han’s crowd, especially considering they aren’t seniors and probably have no interest in kissing him. “What are you doing tonight?”

She rolls her eyes and her teeth grind together. He resists the urge to tell her to stop doing that, it’s not good for her teeth. He said that to her a few days ago and she almost turned bright red and Han almost told her he loved her.

“Not being with you.”

One of the girls snickers and another looks up at Han almost with an apologetic look. Months ago, Han would’ve just moved on to her. But, it’s been weeks since he’s kissed another girl, let alone anything else.

“Ouch.” Han places his hand over his chest. It really does hurt, it always kind of does. “Well, okay then. See you tomorrow.”

“No, do not ask me again tomorrow.”

“No, tomorrow, your big swim meet. Wouldn’t miss it.”

She opens her mouth to say something but she freezes, almost dumbfounded at his knowledge of her extra curricular activities. 

The next day, she’s there, in her sweatpants and bathing suit, that swimming cap concealing all of her hair. She pretends not to see him, but he’s hard to miss, with his face paint Chewie helped him put on and the sign he made with LEIA #1 REBEL written in big neon graffiti style letters.

Han’s not a huge sports guy, he’s definitely not a huge school spirit guy, being a Rebel means nothing to him, but he’ll put on the dumb orange face paint and scream when she jumps in the water because he has to support her. It’s just some deep need he has in his gut, something similar to how he feels when he simply sees her walk by his locker or sit down in his class or laugh with her friends.

He sits and watches the meet go by, meeting her eyes every now and then as she waits for her turn. People leave when it’s over, but Han waits. He watches Leia hug her mom and dad and point to her group of friends who, Han assumes, she will be joining later. She high fives some other swimmers, towel dries her long, beautiful hair. In the end, though, she doesn’t leave with anyone. She stands at the base of the bleachers and puts her hands on her hips, staring at him.

“I didn’t even know you were allowed in the deep end,” Han says, standing. “Being two feet tall.”

“Hah, hah.”

She’s smiling, though. Han’s heart is bursting, his blood warm and perfect in his veins. 

“You’re a pretty fast little sardine.”

She rolls her eyes as Han descends the bleachers. He’s going to kiss her, he’s going to be a jerk and kiss her and she will probably hate him and he can’t stop it. He has to kiss her. He can’t watch her anymore, he can’t just be in the bleachers.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Han jumps off the last bench, so close to her. There are little freckles on the bridge of her nose, just a couple. Her lashes are long and her cheeks are that great tint of rose. 

He’s helpless.

“You shouldn’t have come. I’m never going out with you, Han Solo.”

There’s that smile again, and it aligns with her words in the most fucked up message he’s ever received from a girl, but it’s too late anyway. It’s been too late.

“Give me a chance, little sardine.”

His hands are in her hair, finally, Leia’s hair is between his fingers. Her whole body stiffens, but she leans up, tilts her chin just enough to let him know, yes.

“And why should I?” she asks, nuzzling into his hand, letting him guide her up. 

“I don’t know,” Han says, nudging her nose with his, “you probably shouldn’t.”

He pulls as she laughs, catching her teeth agains this bottom lip. She gasps, surprised, but he tries again and this time, it’s only lips.

Han keeps his hands anchored in her hair, pressing his lips against hers, nudging her mouth open, tasting her. Chlorine and cherry lip balm. He’s slow and steady, not moving his fingers to her breasts or her ass, just enjoying the wet strands of her hair and the delicate way she moans when he gives them a tug. She’s small and compact, but everything he receives from her is huge. Huge pulse of electricity, big waves of warmth, a large sigh of relief. 

When Leia moves away, she catches his lips one more time for a quick kiss that makes his stomach feel like it’s full of butterflies. Butterflies. Holy fuck.

“Okay, I’ll give you a chance.”

Han puts a hand over his chest and falls back on the bench behind him, pulling her between his legs. She’s only a little bit taller than him when he sits and it makes Han’s heart burst.

She laughs, letting him tug her forward and she leans down to kiss him. They share little kisses and soon they turn into deep, hungry ones that won’t stop until the janitor tells them they have to go.

“Let me take you home,” Han says, grabbing her hand as they ascend the stairs.

“I get to ride in the Millennium Falcon?” she asks, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Baby, right now I’d let you drive the Millennium Falcon.”

She assures him she would rather never drive it and he growls, pushing her back against the driver’s side door. The sun is going down and it puts a nice golden glow around her and Han admires every single piece of her, from her eyes to her lips, to the curve of her neck and her collar bone.

She was definitely worth the wait.


	28. Pretending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Hungry kisses on every bit of newly visible skin as clothing is slowly peeled away

“Don’t leave again.”

Leia’s words slice at his heart, gaping open some fresh wound that they both love to tear. They fight, she sends him away, he returns, and they can’t untangle themselves from each other. They need this, their bodies, their mouths, their skin. She drives him crazy, but he’d be lost without her, helpless in a world that’s designed to crush what they stand for. Love? Yes, certainly, but with them, it’s different. 

His fingers drag her shirt down her shoulders and he can’t stop himself from kissing her skin, following the trail of her body like he’s never tasted her before. His tongue slides over the edge of her bra, circles her nipples as he pulls it down, ripping it off of her. He’s on his knees soon, nipping and licking and kissing her stomach as her shirt falls and her pants follow. 

His fingernails rake her thighs and kisses her lips, making her legs shake until they can’t stand up any longer. She bounces on the bed just as her underwear slides past her knees and he pushes her legs open, kissing up her thighs, hungry for what he’s going to find between them.

She hooks her ankles behind his head, locked in just as he likes it. He’s missed this, he’s starving for it, craving the taste of her, the pulse, the echo of her moans, her screams, his name dripping out of he mouth like it’s the only way it’s meant to be said. 

Her words echo in his hears. Don’t leave again. He will, he always does, but right now he can pretend; they can pretend. Pretend that they live in a world that allows only this, just them.


	29. Drinking and Showering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: shower sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of [this particular college AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5548964/chapters/13352170)! Enjoy!

“You’re ridiculous!”

“Oh, I’m ridiculous? What about you? You’re the one who threw a drink at me!”

Leia rolls her eyes, shoving Han into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She grabs his shirt and tugs, yanking it over his head before she can think about it. She’s a bit buzzed. Okay, a lot buzzed.

“You were being gross.”

“I was simply saying that you looked great.”

Those were not his exact words and he knows it, judging by that awful smile on his face. She isn’t sure why she’s dating him half the time. 

Han reaches for her, now shirtless, and presses his hips into hers, covering her mouth with a hot kiss. She tightens her grip on his shirt, now hanging in her hand, and opens her mouth to let him in. God, the guy has only had beer and chips and somehow still tastes good, and the alcohol hasn’t messed with his kissing skills at all.

Maybe that’s why she keeps him around.

It’s new, it’s still very new. They met in the library and on their date she learned that he is actually really smart and that his hand fit in hers quite well. Almost too well.

He drives her nuts. He’s the only unstable thing in her life, and Luke tries to tell her that’s a good thing. She thinks they’re conspiring against her. They haven’t met or anything, but she knows.

Her back arches as Han’s hand glides up her skirt, pushing right past her panties as if they weren’t really there. Right now, annoyances aside and alcohol level very high, she wishes her panties were gone. And Han’s pants.

Leia gasps, clutching Han’s shoulder as he pushes right into her. No preamble, not even so much as a faint touch to her clit, he’s all in. Luckily, she was ready, and the stretch of his fingers feels incredibly good.

She’s not the kind of girl that has sex in bathrooms at frat parties, but apparently Han brings that side out in her. 

“I think,” Han says, breaking the kiss, their noses smashing together, “you threw a drink at me to get me alone.”

He pushes deep into her, curling his fingers. Leia moans, his name sputtering out of her mouth in a voice she doesn’t quite recognize.

“No - oh - I didn’t.”

Her eyes flutter closed but not before she watches him smirk, lifting her onto the sink. It’s a pedestal sink with not much room, and her skirt and ass are soon wet. She yelps and jumps off, crashing Han into the wall. Their teeth clash as they kiss, Leia’s fingers working desperately to get his pants undone.

They’ve had sex before. Twice, actually. This will be their first time not in a extra long twin bed. 

“I don’t have–”

“Birth control.”

This makes Han growl, lifting her again and stepping into the tub shower. She hears the rings slide against the curtain rod, plastic gliding against her knee.

“Some privacy,” Han mumbles against her mouth. 

Leia giggles, proud to have finally gotten his pants and underwear down to his ankles. She slides her hand across his length, Han moaning against lips, vibrating her tongue. His fingers trace her for a moment before disappearing. There’s a squeak of metal and a shower of water and Leia gasps

“Han!”

“I have beer on me, I need a shower.”

“Your pants! My dress.” She whacks his shoulder and he grabs her arm, pressing her against the wall. “You’re insane.”

She can feel him hard against her stomach and his hands lifting her skirt and the look in his eyes as he watches her, water falling from his hair and trailing down his handsome face, makes her not care anymore about her wet clothes.

The water is warming along her skin and she feels the heat from the inside out. Han picks her up and her back hits the wall, her legs instantly wrapping around his waist like she’s done this before (she hasn’t). She holds onto his neck, scared he might be too drunk to really coordinate this and not trip all over his clothes. Fuck, he’s even wearing his shoes in here. 

Leia nudges his shoulder to get him to stop this, to forget this romantic, crazed sex interlude, but she feels him hot and hard against her. His eyes snap back to hers and he thrusts into her.

“Fuck,” she yelps. A moan rolls out of her mouth as he pulls out and pushes again, so slow for impulse shower sex at a party. “Han, be careful.”

He kisses her, the water fresh in his mouth as it drips along his lips. He pulls back, pressing his forehead against hers and the water falls along their faces, rolling down Han’s chest, seeping into her skirt or between her thighs. Her hands slip on his shoulders but his are steady beneath her ass, feet planted on the bottom of the tub.

Her back slides down the tile, but he picks her back up, his hips moving faster at this new angle. Leia’s head rolls back, eyes closing as he moves. He’s deep and thick, fucking her so hard there’s a definite thump of her body against the wall and it’s like she can feel him thrusting her deep into her throat.

Han moves his hand out from beneath her thigh and Leia panics, thinking this is the time when he drops her and they fall over, cracking their skulls open on the floor. Het grabs her hand and moves it beneath her skirt, between their bodies, and leaves it there to assist herself.

Her skin catches fire and he smirks at her, moaning as she rubs her clit between them. Her knuckles brush his lower stomach and his nails are digging into her ass as he moves faster. 

“Kiss me,” she begs, and he does, helping her climb even higher.

Han’s hips move faster, harder, and Leia can hardly keep up with his rhythm. Her back arches a little and there’s something new, an angle not explored yet, and Leia moans, the sound rattling in her ears. She’s being too loud.

The water is turning cold and they’re both completely soaked now. Leia circles her clit, pushes a little lower to feel Han’s dick glide into her and rolls her fingers back up again, creating friction and imagery that shoots electricity through her veins. Han is saying her name in the sweetest, sexiest way and all of her senses are on full blast. He kisses her, his body trembling as he pushes in faster and faster, more erratic, until he’s moving against her mouth and whispering her name over and over again like he’s sorry.

He shouldn’t be, the feel of him, the overcoming pulse of him coming undone, tilts her over the edge and she follows, stars exploding behind her eyelids.

It takes a long time for Han to put her down. When he does, Leia holds onto him, her legs shaky. He turns off the water and she stares at him, completely naked save for his shoes and his pants around his ankles. She laughs and he follows, grabbing the skin of her dress and wringing it out into the tub.

“Was this part of your plan, Princess?”

Leia tilts her head, pressing her lips together, before pushing on her tip toes and kissing him.

“Maybe,” she says, nudging his nose. She pulls back, motioning to her dress. “Do I still ‘look great’?”

Han’s eyes travel her body and she feels like she could go for another round already.

“Yes,” Han whispers, leaning his face into her neck, letting his teeth graze her skin there. “You still look good enough to fuck.”


	30. For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut prompt: "Halo" by Beyonce

With every piece of clothing he takes off, Leia feels free.

She works hard not to question it, not to stiffen and pull away, claim she has no time, no energy, not enough space for him. She really doesn’t, she has nothing left. What can be, after your home is gone and the bad guys keep winning no matter how late you work and how many people you bring into the fight? 

The truth is, their fight is a good one, its an important one, and Leia has no time for this, no energy, no hope for love.

Not the romantic kind; the kind that she has for the rebellion, or for the memories of her home, her family, she’s full of that kind, she’s bursting with it.

Han Solo, with his crooked smile and reckless piloting, with a smuggler’s heart and a saint’s soul. Rebellion courses through his veins, a personal rebellion, definitely one against the Empire, against any establishment that tries to tell him what to do. She has him, now, for the rebellion. 

For herself, if she wants him.

She’s naked and she’s gotten him down to only his socks and the looks so normal now, not like anything that could hurt her, could cause her to explode. Just a man, a man who looks at her like galaxies live inside her skin and he needs to explore them.

She let’s him, turns off the shields along her skin and let’s him discover, make quick turns along her thighs and spirals along her breasts. She opens her legs and he pushes in and they move easily and so perfectly. His voice is rough in her ear and she responds with a drag of her fingernails against his spine. She likes to hear him this way, desperate and grateful, and she wishes she could ever sound like that.

Maybe, soon. For now, she pushes on his chest and rolls her hips above him, kisses his lips and tells him, “Yes,” because this is the best she’s felt in so long. Happiness, she’s remembering happiness, like every time Luke and Han come back in one piece, like studying the stars and galaxies on Alderaan. She let’s down the shield covering her heart, but only a little, and welcomes the warm and comforting sensation that rolls through her when Han finishes and whispers, “I love you.”

That’s all the room she has inside her, for now.


	31. Mistakes and Smears of Grease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: one night stand and falling pregnant au || contemporary

“Shit.”

Leia says the word again, maybe too many times, maybe too loud. She even stomps her foot and changes her choice word to, “Fuck,” because it sounds a little more powerful. It sounds right, like the right amount of anger. 

She throws the test into the garbage when her eyes start to sting.

When a tear falls she pushes it away before it can even pass her chin. She does it again to the next one. And the next. She keeps cursing as she takes a shower, as she stares at her breakfast instead of eating it, as she pours herself a cup of coffee and can’t decide whether she should drink it or not. 

She takes it to work but it turns cold on her desk and she pours it down the drain on her lunch break. 

At the end of the day, after three meetings she can’t believe she got through, and a budget proposal first read through with her colleagues, she gets in her car and slams her hands onto the steering wheel.

“Fuck.”

//

“Shit.”

Leia didn’t have $2,000 to spare on car repairs. She could ask her dad, but she just made a big stink about not wanting anything for the downpayment on her condo. She bought that condo by herself, damnit, and she wasn’t going to take her family’s money to remodel the kitchen or fix the shower. 

She rubbed her forehead and pushed her hair back. She sighed, looking up at the mechanic, who was busy chewing on a toothpick and rubbing his hands on a red rag like some kind of stereotype come to life.

“Can… is there any way to do just some of the work? Like how much of it is safe to do and how much of it is unnecessary?”

“Hey now, I run a very honest shop here, Ms. Skywalker, I’m not trying to rake you over the coals or anything.” He plucked the toothpick out of his mouth, tossing it aside. Leia’s eyes followed it until it fell to the floor and rolled under a workbench. “I’m not going to quote you or repair anything that I don’t think you need. The car’s old. It needs the work.”

“I came in here for an oil change,” Leia deadpanned.

The mechanic stuffed the rag into his back pocket and turned around, and Leia was ashamed that she examined his ass for longer than she should. She was having a hard day.

“You could turn her in for a new car and it’ll run you about the same for the down payment, but here, let me show you.”

He jerked his head, toward her car, and started his tour of malfeasance. He took his time explaining each piece of damaged goods on her old car. She’d had the thing since high school, a hand-me-down, and it treated her nicely. Apparently, she wasn’t doing the same to the car.

He even put each of her wheels on something that made the wheel spin off the car and showed her how it was bent, how it was bad for the car and her tires. She had boughten many tires over the years.

He took off pieces, small and big, almost had her go into the hood and stick her head in the engine to show her some kind of plug. There was something about a transmission. Leia’s head felt like it was going to explode.

She leaned against the car when he was done, wishing she smoked or did something else to relieve tension or stress. She couldn't very well go for a run right now. The mechanic turned and leaned against the car next to her, stuffing his hands in his pockets, waiting. 

“Should I just buy a new car?”

It seemed absolutely ridiculous to ask a mechanic who could make money off of her old car this question, but she just spent an hour in this shop, and she had no one to turn to right now except this tall, sharp-jawed mechanic who had a scar on his chin and grease smeared into his hands no matter how much he wiped them. 

He shrugged and pushed off the car.

“Unfortunately, I have other cars to repair, but you just let me know.”

He started walking away, pulling the top of his coveralls off, revealing a white t-shirt and muscles and even more grease. Leia needed a nap.

He looked back at her, yelling, “But I’m not letting you leave in that death machine,” and disappeared through the office door.

//

Leia spends the night cleaning out her fridge. Something smells in there. She eats an apple for dinner and falls asleep on the couch watching horrific Lifetime movies.

She dry heaves in the morning and calls her doctor. When the receptionist answers, Leia frantically hangs up and throws her cellphone across her office. She doesn’t cancel any of her meetings, she puts some more editing into the proposal, and spends her lunch break taking a walk through the gloomy, winter air.

She doesn’t drive straight home. She takes the turn on Willoughby and down 4th. She stops in front of Falcon’s Auto Repair. They close at seven, but the big garage door is still rolled up. 

She drives home.

//

“Fix it.”

The mechanic, which Leia learned was named Han Solo, nodded at her and turned back to the office. She scrolled through her phone and looked for someone to come pick her up and take her home until this financial nightmare was over, but before she even got to the K’s, Han was back.

“Let’s get to work.”

He handed her a beer. A can of Coors with the tab open, condensation already forming on the outside. If he opened it, she would be drinking grease, a smell that was permeating around her along with old rubber and metal. 

“Um.”

“Half off if you help me.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s not really -- it’s fine. I can afford it.”

His grey eyes disappeared a little under his furrowed brow. He sighed and took a swig of his own beer. He had a new smear of grease on his forehead that wasn’t there the last time she saw him.

“Also I have a job.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“This will take longer than a day, though… right?”

“Maybe. Usually my partner and I, if we have the parts, can get things done quickly. But you’re new at this, so maybe two days. Three, but I think we can manage with two.”

“I don’t think this is--”

“Let’s get you rolling the tires out of here. We’ll pick out some new ones in a few. And I’ll show you how to put it on a wheel.”

“Aren’t wheels and tires the same?”

Han stopped, put his hand to his heart and fell against her car with a echoing thump. She smiled, maybe she even laughed, but she hid it by taking a swig of her beer.

“Roll the tires out of here. Get out of my sight.”

//

It takes a week of hanging up on the receptionist before Leia finally says she needs to make an appointment. She has a positive at home pregnancy test.

“Congratulations!” the receptionist squeaks on the other line.

Leia forces out a thank you and she looks through her calendar. She’ll go in next week. 

She drives by Falcon’s every night after work, but just like her upcoming appointment, she isn’t sure what she’ll even say to him if she gets out of the car.

//

She didn’t remember how the kissing started, only that it had, and that it was _so fucking good_.

Han was good, Han was good at everything. Han was good at fixing her car, at making her roll her eyes, at arguing about politicians and pizza toppings, he was good at making her laugh, at explaining things, he had patience, he was kind, but also sarcastic and dry and complained about customers right after they walked away. He was good at wearing grease and oversized coveralls, he was good at smelling like sweat. 

He was good at kissing her.

It was late and her body ached and she probably smelled, but it didn’t really matter right now. Not when Han’s big, greasy hands were holding her waist and hoisting her on top of workbench. She spread her legs and he pushed between them, their bodies flush. She let her hands roam over his torso, up his arms, his shoulders, along his back and neck, over his chest. He moaned into her mouth when her nails scraped over his thin, white t-shirt. 

She was worried she tasted like pizza and beer, but he tasted a little like cinnamon, probably from those damn toothpicks he always had hanging out of his mouth. He used to smoke, apparently they help. If he cared that she tasted like a fraternity house, he didn’t show any sign of it. His tongue was smooth in her mouth, teeth nipping at her bottom lip, kisses full and deep and needy. 

Leia removed his shirt and it turned something in him, made his kisses filthier, his hands rougher. She let him remove her clothes, let the chill night air bite at her skin because his hands were there to roam and warm her. 

She worked on his coveralls, which was awkward, and their kisses turned into bumping teeth and smiles, Han the first to laugh. 

“Let me,” he said, swatting her hand, and untying the arms of his clothes around his waist and dropping them to the floor. Leia groaned and laughed when she saw the pair of jeans underneath.

She reached forward and undid the clasp and pushed them down and suddenly felt a little shy at his naked form. Not because it was bad, it was far from bad, but because they were in his shop, with blaring shop lights and oldies music playing on the radio and she was topless among tools and rags. 

Han took a breath, his own neck turning a cute shade of red.

“We can stop,” he breathed.

Leia thought about it, this was slightly insane, she was already getting a really good deal on her car, was this part of it? She couldn’t have sex for payment. 

She flicked her eyes to the ceiling and then back at him.

“I don’t want to.”

Han grinned, the sideways one.

“Me either.” Han’s eyes looked her over and he made a sound deep in his throat that Leia had never heard a man make before. “Hold on.”

He tripped out of his coveralls and jeans and boots, cursing, and Leia giggled, watching a naked man walk through a body shop and behind a counter where he dug through some drawers. It was way too vulnerable for what they were doing, but Leia liked it. 

She jumped off the counter and took off her own clothes, figuring they should be even. She felt insane and like she was 17 again, hooking up with boys at parties or having sex in cars. 

Leia tiptoed to Han, her feet cold on the floor. She tried to look out for anything sharp on the ground as she went.

She walked behind the counter just in time to find him opening a condom. She reached for it, and took it out of his hand, trying to ignore the way he was looking at her, how his eyes were heavy and hot on her from head to toe as she undid the rest of the wrapper and wrapped her hand slowly and carefully over his dick. 

He inhaled and his hands went straight to the back of her neck, pulling her close. One hand slid down her jaw, tipping her chin up as she rolled the condom on. His eyes closed, forehead pressing against hers, and Leia pushed up on her tiptoes to kiss him. 

The wall was cold against her back, her ass, but Han was kissing her so much faster, so much hungrier, she was starting to turn to flames. He picked her up like she was nothing and she felt him hard against her. 

She wasn’t sure what caused her to want him so much. He was cute, yes, and flirty and funny and incredibly smart. Maybe it had been awhile since a man had talked to her like a human being instead of trying to undermine her at work. Fuck, did she only go to work? When was the last time she talked to a man outside of work?

Han detached his lips from hers, opting for her neck instead. He adjusted a few times against her, groaning when they wouldn’t align like he wanted. Leia tried to adjust, too, and they both laughed, Han against her collarbone, and Leia into his hair.

“Shame,” Leia said, “you don’t seem to know your way around a lady like you do around a car.”

Han bit down on her skin and came back up to look at her. He held her up with one hand and reached between them with another, not a tremble in his body, and Leia would be impressed if she wasn’t incredibly turned on by the fire in his eyes.

“I was just teasing,” Leia said. Han smiled, but it was just as playful as it was wicked and Leia wasn’t sure if she was breathing anymore.

Han lifted her a little higher, while bending his knees and she felt him perfect against her. She gasped and he pushed just enough to make her moan, sliding his hand back to her ass, gripping along with his other. 

“Why, Ms. Skywalker, you’re shaking.”

Was Han actually the big bad wolf? Maybe. But she didn’t care.

She kissed him, kissed him hard enough she hoped he knew she was begging, needing, wanting. She opened her mouth and slid her tongue against his, bit his lip and tugged and whined as she took her shaking hands into his hair and rolled her hips. He moaned and pushed, hard, into her. 

Her moans echoed in the shop and his words, filthy and sweet all at once, rolled off his tongue into her hair, along her earlobe, over her skin. He fucked her against that wall until they were both sweating and clawing at each other. He fucked her until they couldn’t stand anymore, until their legs were wobbly and they were both sore with something rich and good. He wished for a cigarette and she dug in his coveralls for toothpicks and he kissed her deep until their hands wandered again and they ended up mumbling against lips until their bodies connected once more, this time, in the back seat of her car.

//

Leia honestly can’t remember if they used a condom the second time. 

Stupid, stupid, Leia. 

Stupid, stupid, Leia, forgets condoms and is going to be late to her doctor’s appointment.

She stares at Falcon’s like she’s done so many times in the night. But today the sun is out, even as the air is chilled. She turns the car off and she sits, she waits, she sees time tick by as her appointment is getting closer and closer. 

He has no business knowing any of this and yet she’s here. She had no plans to come back here, there was no, “Call me,” or even an, “That was fun.”

But she’s here now. Pregnant. With Han Solo’s baby.

She gets out. She walks through the rolled up door and back to the office. She’s lucky. Or unlucky, that he’s there. He’s sipping coffee and picking at the crumbs of what was once a bagel.

“What is it, Chewie, I told you--”

His words catch in his throat as he looks up at her. His eyes round, jaw going slack. He has grease on his stubbled cheek. His hair’s a mess and today he has his coveralls all the way on.

“Leia -- um, Ms. Skywalker. How are you? Is the car okay?”

“It is, thank you.”

They stare at each other and Leia feels like she’s going to throw up, which isn’t anything new, but she doesn’t like the feeling right now. She wants to be calm and confident and strong and she hasn’t felt that way for two weeks.

“How can I help you?” he asks, standing.

She wishes she could stand here and try to evaluate his look, the tone of his voice, the way he seems to be talking to her like she’s just any other customer. But she doesn’t. She has an appointment.

“Are you free for like the next hour, by chance?”

She had no plan coming in here, and she really wishes she had one now.

Leia rubs her forehead, pushing her hair back. 

“No--”

“Yes--”

“No, no, don’t agree to that.”

Han blinks. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Leia says and her eyes sting so she turns around.

“I really am free, I kind of make my own hours. I’m the boss.” He tries to joke and it’s falling flat and she’s mad that she can’t even force a laugh.

Leia takes a deep breath and turns around. Han’s eyes are soft, his hand out toward her like he could catch her if she fell. Like he was worried she would.

She tells him. She says it plain and without apology. She tells him she’s on her way to the doctor. She tells him she hasn’t made a decision about what to do about it yet. She tells him this as her ears are ringing and the world caves in on itself. She hasn’t even said it outloud to anyone and talking through it makes it more real.

When she’s done, she doesn’t really want to hear Han’s response but she waits anyway. Her eyes flick to the clock behind him on the wall.

“Shit.” She says it again and again as Han stares at her. “I have to go, I’m sorry, I’m going to be late.”

She pushes the door open and apologizes again and runs to her car.

She turns it on, it actually just turns on now when she wants it to, and rolls down her window so she can breathe.

“Leia!”

Han’s running up to the car, his hands out as if he could physically stop the car if he needed to.

“Wait,” he breathes, “I’m coming.”

He rounds the car and sits in the passenger’s seat, buckling himself in just as Leia pulls away from the curb. She has ten minutes to get there, she’s going to be late. 

It isn’t until they’re in the waiting room, Han’s leg bouncing next to her, that Han speaks again.

“Shit. We didn’t use a condom the second time, did we?”

Leia snorts, then laughs, way too loud for a OBGYN waiting room. Han joins in and he finds her hand through the laughter and squeezes.


End file.
